The Evil That Follows
by ColHogan
Summary: Sometimes you survive the evils of war. Only evil doesn't always end when the war does. Warning: Character death in prologue. ***Nominated for a PBA for Best Drama and Best Teaser for 2012***
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First, thanks to 80sarcades for permitting me to use an incident in his story Requiem, for a Memory, as a basis for this story. The first part may slightly resemble the beginning of Requiem, for a Memory. It was necessary for the purposes of this story. I do not own Hogan's Heroes or any of it's characters, but I do the DVDs and enjoy watching them. Only the OCs are mine. Please read and review.**

**The Evil That Follows**

**Prologue:**

_**Arlington National Cemetery**_

_**March 13, 1955**_

Today it was just the four of them huddled together against the chilly afternoon breeze that was blowing on this crisp, clear day. But today was unlike the last time they had been here. At that time they were only four out of dozens of others both military and non-military who had gathered to say goodbye to a fallen hero who had passed much too soon. But now, a year later, they each gazed down at the white marble headstone on which was engraved the name: Robert Edward Hogan and beneath it, Lt. General, and the date of March 13, 1954.

Newkirk, Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau each leaned forward and placed their bouquets of flowers in front of the headstone, then straightened back up and folded their hands in front of them, continuing to gaze with bright eyes at the name on the white marble.

Each man was lost in their own thoughts as they recalled the day a year ago when they had heard the terrible news of Hogan's death in a plane crash during a thunderstorm; mechanical failure was the official explanation.

Captain James Kinchloe, being one of Hogan's aides from the moment Hogan received his promotion to Brigadier General, was the first to hear the news of the crash. At first he didn't believe the report as he knew that although a young pilot and co-pilot were at the controls of the military transport on which Hogan, now a Lieutenant General, and his senior aide-de-camp, Major Jack Bergman, were en-route to some military function, that Hogan being an experienced pilot in his own right, could take over in an emergency.

But soon Kinch discovered the story was sadly true; the plane had crashed two hours after take-off having tried to fly around a thunderstorm; but the plane was struck by lightning causing mechanical failure. Hogan, his aide, the pilot, and co-pilot were dead on impact. Kinch couldn't believe it. Hogan, having survived years at Stalag 13, the Gestapo, the SS, and whatever other dangers the Germans threw at him, died in a plane crash on American soil. The first thing Kinch had to struggle with was the sudden shock and grief over the death of his close friend and commanding officer. He mourned the young pilot, co-pilot and aide as well, but it was Hogan's death that shook Kinch to his core. An hour after the news had been verified; Kinch locked himself in Hogan's office, buried his head in his hands, and cried uncontrollably.

Once he had managed to get control of his emotions, he quickly phoned Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau each of who were no longer in the military with the news. The entire team had remained close since their liberation, and was stunned and grief-stricken by the news. Newkirk and LeBeau both immediately flew from their respective countries to the United States for Hogan's funeral. Carter had arrived a day before their international friends, and with Kinch, met their friends at the airport.

Standing now at the grave-site, each man crossed himself. Kinch then sighed before turning and slowly walking away, leading the quartet from the grave-site and to their parked car.

"I don't know about you mates," remarked Newkirk grimly with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his tweed outer coat. "But I could sure use a stiff drink right 'bout now."

"So could I," Kinch agreed readily. "I know it's been a year, but I still find this day hard to get through," he continued as he and the others got into the parked car with Kinch behind the wheel with Newkirk beside him, and Carter and LeBeau in the back seat. Kinch slowly pulled away from the curb and took off down the street.

"Y'know, I still can't believe Colonel Hogan's gone," Carter said quietly. "It was just a week before he died that he and I spoke on the phone and made plans for him to fly out to North Dakota and visit with my family and see the new baby. I think he was embarrassed when I told him we had named him Robbie."

"Oui, Andre," LeBeau remarked. "I remember when I received my last letter from him. He had just been promoted to Lieutenant General and Kinch to Captain. Le Colonel was more proud of Kinch's promotion than his own. He was looking forward to finishing his career with the Army. It is not fair. Le Colonel was much too young to die."

Newkirk smirked. "Blimey, it's ruddy hard to think that the one thing the Gov'nor loved more than anything was what killed 'im. I mean, he loved flying so much and missed it something awful."

Their conversation ceased when they came to a bar/restaurant a few miles from the cemetery. After parking the car and getting out, the group approached the establishment. Kinch pulled open the door and allowed the others to enter before he followed behind them. Once their eyes grew accustomed to the darkened interior, the men made their way to the back of the room and finding an empty booth, sat down. They each ordered a beer when the waitress approached and handed each man a menu after taking their drink orders.

The men remained silent as the waitress returned with their mugs of beer and placed one in front of each man. Ready to take their food orders, Kinch asked her to give them a few more minutes; the waitress smiled and promised to return in five minutes.

Feeling hungry, each man ordered either a hamburger or a sandwich when the waitress returned along with a side order of French fries; the waitress, after taking their orders, collected the menus and walked away.

"Carter's right, y'know," Newkirk said after the waitress had left. "I mean, the Gov'nor was always so careful and all. Ruddy hard to believe he's really gone."

"Yeah, well…." Kinch took a sip of his beer. "I saw the official report, Peter. "The plane was trying to fly around a thunderstorm but was struck by lightning. It can happen to anybody, even the Colonel. Regardless, from what I understand he, his senior aide, the pilot and co-pilot all died quickly and apparently didn't suffer much before the end came."

"But still, mon ami," LeBeau chimed in. "It seems strange to be discussing Le Colonel in the past tense. He should still be here with us instead of….." He waved his hand in the air at nothing in particular without finishing his sentence. The conversation ceased again as the waitress brought their food. After she walked away, the men began eating their meals and changing the conversation to talking about old times. They eventually finished their meals and then sat around sipping their beers and remembering their fallen leader. Finally, Kinch held up his mug.

"You've been gone a year," he said. "But you're still greatly missed by those of us who served with and under you. Here's to the finest officer to ever wear an Allied uniform. To Robert Hogan." The others repeated their former commander's name then everyone clinked glasses and took a long draught of their beer.

**Present Day-September 17, 1955**

Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk were all seated in a booth in the same bar/restaurant they had visited when they had gotten together to remember Hogan six months ago. But this time their conversation consisted of what was currently happening in each man's life to how were their individual families and what were their individual plans and how Kinch was doing since Hogan's death, having been reassigned to General Montgomery Forbes as his senior aide.(1) Kinch went on to explain that although Forbes, in many ways, was similar to Hogan, he was a bit different as well. But he was glad Forbes had fought to secure him as his aide after hearing of Hogan's passing and knowing being a black man in the Army, Kinch would have a difficult road ahead of him despite being a highly qualified officer. Also, Forbes had been a close friend of Hogan's for many years and both had been Colonels during the war, and after the war, when both men were promoted, he even envied Hogan having Kinch as an aide after seeing how qualified the man was and saw in him what Hogan did. So Kinch swallowed his grief and made sure he did his job the way he did when Hogan was alive. And Kinch admitted he liked General Forbes very much and found him to be a good man who treated him with respect and dignity to which the others were happy to hear. They had all secretly been worried about what would happen to their friend after Hogan's death. There was a few minutes of silence as the men drank their beer before Newkirk looked Kinch directly in the eyes looking as if he had grown tired of waiting for something.

"So, mate," Newkirk asked setting down his mug. "What was so bloody important you sent me a ruddy letter askin' me to meet you here today?"

Kinch raised his eyebrows. "What letter? I never wrote you a letter."

"You got one too, mon ami?" asked the Frenchman before the Englander could reply to Kinch's statement.

"You mean you guys each got a letter too?" asked Carter with arched eyebrows. "I thought I was the only one who got one from Kinch."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Kinch held up his hands, palms forward. "First off, I never sent anybody any letters. Second, I have no idea what you're talking about. And third, Peter, I received a letter from you stating you, Carter and LeBeau stating it was imperative all of us meet, and and that you'd explain when we got together."

Newkirk's eyebrows arched. "I never sent you any bleedin' letter, mate."

"You sure, Peter?" Kinch asked reaching into his inner jacket pocket and pulling out a wrinkled envelope and handed it to Newkirk. "I got it right here. It's your handwriting all right, Peter. Take a look." He handed the envelope to the Englander who removed a single sheet of paper from inside and unfolded it. He read it out loud:

"**Kinch, ****I realize we just got together** **to remember Colonel Hogan; but something important has come to my attention that requires you, Louis, and Andrew to meet me in person to talk at the bar/restaurant we always go to after visiting the Gov'nor's grave. Whatever you do, do not call me as it's too risky to discuss it over the phone. See you on September 17th****, 1955. Peter."**

Newkirk glanced at LeBeau and Carter as he folded the paper and stuck it back in the envelope. "You both got letters as well?" They both nodded their heads as he handed the envelope back to the black man. "Well, all I can tell you is that I didn't send this letter or any other letter. But apparently somebody wants you to think I did, Kinch."

"Well if you didn't write them," said LeBeau. "Just who did then?"

"I wish I knew, mate. But appears someone wants us all here today. But I have no ruddy idea why."

Just then, the waitress who had brought their beers approached. "Excuse me," she said looking at Kinch in his uniform. "Are you Captain James Kinchloe?"

The men exchanged looks before Kinch looked directly at the woman. "I'm Captain Kinchloe. How may I help you?"

Reaching into the pocket of her apron, the woman removed a sealed envelope and handed it to Kinch. "A older gentleman brought this in earlier and said to give it to you, and that you'd know what to do with it." She handed the envelope to Kinch.

"What did this bloke look like?" Newkirk asked, curious.

The waitress shrugged. "I didn't really pay attention. All I could tell you was he was of average height with gray hair. I'm sorry," she said apologetically.

"That's okay. Thank you," Kinch replied with a sigh as he waited until the waitress walked away before opening the envelope and removing the contents, noticing it consisted of several sheets of paper, a couple were stapled together. One was a copy of Hogan's death certificate, another was a copy of the report of the plane crash, the ones stapled together were the autopsy report, and the last was a letter addressed to Kinch. Scanning the contents he then read the letter out loud to the others:

"**The end is not what it appears to be. The answers you** **will** **seek to the questions you have are in the enclosed documents."**

"What the ruddy hell does that mean?" asked Newkirk of nobody in particular. "What ruddy questions?"

"I have no idea, but whoever left this envelope included a copy of the General's death certificate and a copy of the report."

"What for?" asked LeBeau. "I mean, what could be the reason behind it?"

"Yeah," Carter added. "We all know the Colonel died instantly in the plane crash, and that it was caused by mechanical failure."

"I haven't the slightest idea, Louie, except it appears whoever left this for me wanted us all here together." His eyebrows suddenly knitted together as he continued to study the documents. "Wait a minute."

"You see something, mate?"

"On General Hogan's death certificate the cause of death has been highlighted in yellow and so is the cause of the crash on the report."

Carter seemed confused. "Why would somebody do that? We all know what happened."

Newkirk appeared thoughtful for a few minutes before a look of horror appeared on his face. "Kinch, is it even remotely possible that whoever wanted us all here and then made sure the contents of this ruddy envelope was given to you is tryin' to tell us the Gov'nor didn't die in that bloody crash, or that maybe there was something wonky about it ?"(2)

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau exclaimed. "Pierre, are you suggesting someone possibly killed Le Colonel?"

"That's ridiculous," Carter said. "Who'd want to kill the Colonel? The war's been over for several years."

"Blimey, Andrew, do I have to explain every ruddy thing to you? You know the Gov'nor made enemies while in Germany. Ole Hochstetter for one; then there's Burkhalter."

"We can't limit ourselves to only World War Two," LeBeau reminded him grimly. "The Cold War is still going on, but Le Colonel probably was involved in it to some degree, as well as the Korean War. He could have made enemies in both places. Also, from what I have heard, both Burkhalter and Hochstetter escaped punishment by getting out of Germany and were last heard to be in Argentina. Hochstetter would be my first choice."

"We need to check what enemies the Gov'nor might have made while he was involved in the Cold War as well as those he might have made in the Korean War," said Newkirk. "But how are we gonna do that?"

LeBeau smiled slyly. "Marya will know about the Cold War."

Newkirk rolled his eyes in exasperation at the mentioning of the woman's name. "Blimey, LeBeau. Don't even mention that bloody woman's name. She caused trouble every time she showed up in Stalag 13. Drove the Colonel balmy, she did. Probably isn't even a spy anymore. Besides, she ain't been heard from in years."

"Perhaps not by you," the Frenchman replied with an amused grin.

The Englander suddenly looked at the little Frenchman with his smirk and slowly shook his head. "No. Oh no. Don't tell me you've been correspondin' with that woman. Please tell me it ain't true. We don't need her bloody help."

"The last letter I received from my beautiful Marya was the day of Colonel Hogan's funeral apologizing for not being able to attend. Even if my angel is not a spy anymore, she could still have heard things and might know what enemies le Colonel made during the Cold War. We cannot ignore her as a possible source of information."

"Doesn't matter, mate. Ole Hochstetter hated the Gov'nor for making a bloody fool outta him at every turn. And the Allies are still searchin' for them ruddy Nazi spies in the United States and England."

"Now wait a minute," Kinch stated. "We're jumping to conclusions here. We have no proof of anything. All we have are several pieces of paper, two of which possibly raise questions about the crash and the General's cause of death. But being on the inside as I am, I can positively state I went over the report thoroughly and there was nothing suspicious about the crash or the General's death. If there was I'd be one of the first to know. So would General Butler even though he retired after the Korean War."

"That may be," Newkirk quickly pointed out tapping the papers in Kinch's hands. "But somebody thinks otherwise for a reason, and we have to at least consider looking into it. We could be doin' the Gov'nor a grave injustice if we let it go and there was something wrong here."

Kinch looked at the others. "LeBeau?"

The Frenchman exhaled deeply. "I would hate to think somebody hurt mon Colonel on purpose. But would it not be better to find out the truth than for somebody to have gotten away with murder and taking him from us? I say we check into it, mon ami."

"Andrew?"

Carter shrugged his shoulders. "I sorta feel like LeBeau. I mean, I hate the idea that somebody may have hurt the Colonel. But if there's a chance somebody did, isn't it better that person pay for what they did? I mean, wouldn't Colonel Hogan do the same thing if it had been one of us who'd been killed possibly under suspicious circumstances?"

Kinch sighed as he folded the papers and after putting them back in their envelope, stuffed the envelope inside his inner jacket pocket. "When I return to the office, I'll speak with General Forbes and then make one or two phone calls and see what I can find out. Newkirk, since General Butler is retired and was the General's commanding officer during the operation, why don't you go and speak with him directly. He knew the General as well as anybody."

"What about us, mon ami?" asked LeBeau. "What do Andre and I do?"

"Louie, I want you and Carter to search the newspapers for anything you can find on the crash and make copies of what you find. We need to see if the media reported anything that the military didn't. If any of you discover anything, keep it to yourselves until later this evening and we'll meet back at the hotel in town. No sense in arousing suspicion where there may not be any."

* * *

(1) Col. Forbes is from Easy Come, Easy Go, Season 6. I promoted him to Major General. He also had no first name so I invented one.

(2) Wonky means 'not quite right.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

Once they left the bar/restaurant, Kinch drove Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter back to the hotel while he returned to the Pentagon. The minute he entered the building he removed his cap before taking an elevator, hurried to the third floor and walked briskly to his commanding officer's office and entered. With his cap tucked under his arm, his eyes immediately fell on Captain Janice Winger, the General's secretary seated behind her desk busily typing reports. He also noticed Major Desmond seated in a chair apparently waiting to see Forbes. Kinch nodded towards the man he knew didn't like him and went as far as to disapprove of him as Hogan's choice for an aide; he had even voiced his disapproval to Hogan who promptly put the man in his place. Desmond simply stared hard at Kinch with a look of disapproval and disgust.

Kinch knew nobody could tell Hogan who he could or couldn't have as an aide. And immediately following Hogan's death, Desmond thought he would try and make things difficult for Kinch who found out that General Forbes, like Hogan, fought for him insisting on having the black Captain as his senior aide. Fortunately for Kinch, Forbes got his way and Kinch was directly reassigned to the General who sought to protect him from people like Desmond and Kinch knew it upset the Major to which he didn't really care. After suffering from and tolerating indignities because of people like Desmond both in Germany and in his own military during the war, Kinch was not about to let people like Desmond do the same post-war if possible.

Noticing Kinch out of the corner of her eyes, Janice paused her typing and looked up, greeting the officer with a pleasant smile which Kinch returned. Kinch suspected the Captain had a bit of a crush on him despite him never encouraging her in any way, and he was always as pleasant towards her as she was to him even though there was a racial difference between them. As far as Captain Winger was concerned, Captain Kinchloe was a fine, decent, and good man as well as a good catch. But she was also aware of the mood of the Air Force regarding blacks and the problems both would have if they were to become romantically involved as was Kinch who harbored no romantic feelings for her, so she kept her feelings to herself even though she was pretty sure the Captain was aware of them.

"Can I help you, Captain?" she asked her bright blue eyes sparkling at Kinch.

"Is he in?" Kinch asked motioning with his jaw towards the closed inner office door bearing the nameplate: MAJ. GEN. M. FORBES.

"He is but he's on the telephone right now, Captain. And Major Desmond has been waiting. If you'd like to wait I can let him know you'd like to speak with him; or you can come back later."

Kinch glanced at the Major and then looked at the Captain. "Would you tell him I'm here to speak with him and that I'll wait. I only need about ten to fifteen minutes of his time."

"Is it important?"

"It could turn out to be. I really can't say yet," Kinch replied.

Winger continued to smile as she got to her feet. "I'll tell him you're here. Have a seat, Captain."

"I appreciate it. Thank you." Kinch took a seat a couple of chairs away from Desmond who continued staring at him. Kinch watched Captain Winger knock on the General's door, then opened it partially. He then looked at Desmond and arched his eyebrows knowing that simple act alone would annoy the man to no end. Kinch also knew Desmond would really flip once he discovered that Forbes would see him first and wished he could stay in the waiting area just to see his face but just knowing it would have to satisfy him.

"Captain Kinchloe?"

Looking up Kinch noticed Captain Winger standing in front of him. "General Forbes is off the phone. He said he can spare you no more than fifteen minutes. If you'll just follow me."

As Kinch rose he noticed Desmond's face turning a deep crimson but didn't care. He followed Winger and waited for her to open the door and allow him to pass into the General's spacious office before closing the door. Kinch came to attention and saluted Forbes who returned the salute. "Captain Kinchloe reporting, sir," he said.

"Have a seat, Kinch," Forbes said casually. He waited until Kinch sat down in the plush chair in front of his desk. "Captain Winger said you wanted to speak with me about something which could be important. Now, what's going on?"

Kinch reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope he was given by the waitress and handed it to Forbes. "This was given to me by a waitress in the bar my friends and I were in after each of us were led to believe it was urgent we were to meet." As Forbes removed the contents and examined the contents carefully, Kinch went on to explain about the letters received by LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk as well as by him and what he and the others suspected.

"So you all suspect that somebody wanted all of you together in order to pass on information that General Hogan's death might not have been an accident?" Forbes, returning the documents to the envelope, handed it back to his aide.

"Yes, sir."

"Kinch…" Forbes clasped his hands on top of his desk and looked Kinch directly in the face. "…I know how close you and the others were to Hogan. But all you have is a copy of the original report and a copy of Hogan's death certificate which, by themselves, prove nothing. I went over the original report thoroughly as well as received periodic updates during the investigation into the crash. Hogan was a dear friend of mine as well. If I thought there was something even remotely suspicious about either the crash or his death I would be all over everything. But I found nothing out of the norm. Not a thing."

Kinch exhaled deeply. "So you think I should just forget about it then?"

"I didn't say that, exactly. I do find it curious that somebody went through what seems to be a lot of trouble to get everyone together and get copies of this information to you." Forbes leaned back in his chair. "Let me ask you something, Lieutenant. What would you like to do with this information?"

"Sir, I would like the opportunity to at least check into it. I mean, as you said, somebody went to a lot of trouble; and as that's the case, I feel I owe it to General Hogan to at least look into it. If there was some foul play involved, I can't let that person get away with killing him. All I request, sir, is a chance to look into this."

Forbes sighed as he pursed his lips. "This is what I will do, Kinch. I will give you ten days to look into this matter providing you keep me abreast of what you find out. Don't worry about anything here; I'll cover for you and give you as much help as I can. As I said, Hogan was a dear friend of mine, and I promise you if your investigation finds something, a full-scale investigation will be conducted leaving no stone unturned, and the guilty party or parties will pay and pay dearly."

A smile appeared on Kinch's face. "Thank you, sir. I will keep you abreast of what is uncovered."

"Excellent. Where do you plan to start if I might ask?"

"I have Newkirk going to talk with General Butler and LeBeau and Carter are heading to the town where the crash took place to see what the local newspapers reported. After that, we'll meet and see what we have."

"All right. Just keep me advised. Is there anything else, Captain?"

"No sir. Thank you, sir." Kinch got to his feet and saluted Forbes. The General, returning the salute smiled as he watched his aide head toward the door. As Kinch grabbed the doorknob, he called out to him. Kinch turned and looked back. "Sir?"

"One last thing. If it turns out there was foul play involved, you and your friends be extremely careful. Somebody may have gone through a lot of trouble to cover this up and won't take too kindly to somebody nosing around, especially Hogan's former team. So all of you watch yourselves."

"We will, General. You have my word." That said, Kinch opened the door and walked out, closing the door behind him. He glanced at Desmond again still seated and glowering in his direction. Ignoring him, Kinch smiled briefly as the Captain and quickly exited the office. He had things to do.

* * *

General Alvin Butler walked to the liquor cabinet and picking up a bottle of Scotch, nervously poured himself a full glass of the amber liquid. Then, he downed the entire glass in one gulp allowing the liquid to burn his throat on the way down. As soon as he emptied his glass, he quickly poured a refill which he also downed just as quickly.(1) Then, once the glass was emptied, he sat it down on the cabinet and stared at himself in the mirror above the cabinet. Having retired in 1954, he noticed he still pretty much looked as he did when he was active during WW2; except his hair was now heavily streaked with gray and a bit thinner, and he was a bit heavier than he had been during the Korean War. He had lost a lot of good men and good friends during WW2, the Cold War, and the Korean War combined, but the worse loss was that of Robert Hogan as it occurred during peacetime and in an ironic way. Hogan was a Lieutenant General and as far as Butler was concerned, a well-deserved promotion long in the coming for his exploits both during WW2, the Cold and Korean Wars. He felt, no, he believed before Hogan's military career was finished, he might make Air Force Chief-of-Staff. But sadly, that was not to be.

Bowing his head, Butler sadly shook it as he recalled the day he had heard the news of the crash of Hogan's plane. He still couldn't believe that the man who survived Stalag 13 and the horrors thrown at him by the Gestapo repeatedly among others, not to mention what he ran into during the Korean War, would meet his end traveling in a military transport to a military function. Of course Butler was involved in every step of the investigation into the crash and, in the end, had to sadly admit his friend's death was a tragic accident and the military had lost a valuable commodity in Hogan.

But following the accident, he began hearing things; things that troubled him. Whispers that maybe the accident was no accident. But never a man to listen to rumors, Butler decided to discreetly investigate, and found his path blocked at every turn. It wasn't that people wouldn't talk, it was the way they wouldn't talk that bothered him the most. There was almost a fear to their silence; at least to him. He was about to end his investigation when he was contacted by a Sergeant named Cyrus Bremer who said he needed to speak with him and would meet with him. But before he could, the Sergeant was killed in a jeep accident. The official report was that he had been drinking and was legally drunk when he got behind the wheel of the jeep. Butler didn't find that hard to believe as it was a well-known fact that the Sergeant liked to 'tie one on' on occasion with the boys. With nothing else to go on, Butler felt more mentally and physically exhausted then he ever had, and made the decision it was time for him to get out.

And he did just that taking only a few things with him of importance and officially retired. But his suspicions never left him to this day; he just buried them because to believe there could be any truth to it was too horrible to think of plus, there was no proof of anything. Also, since Hogan's death, Butler had the feeling he was being watched but couldn't swear to it. So after attending Hogan's funeral and paying his respects to the man who he believed shortened the war in Germany by several months by sabotaging the German war effort every chance he got; he then came home, never to set foot in the Pentagon offices again.

He thought about picking up the Scotch bottle again, but decided not to. He needed a clear head if he was going to be able to figure out what his next step would be. Even one and a half years after it happened, Butler still suspected Hogan's death was not an accident, and he set something in motion that he hoped would prove or disprove it. As he pondered the next course of action, the doorbell rang interrupting his thoughts. Butler looked around wondering who would be ringing his doorbell at this time of the day. Puzzled but concerned, Butler turned away from the mirror and walked toward the door. He first made sure the deadbolt chain was on it before cracking it open to see who it was. Recognizing his visitor, a smile appeared on the retired General's face as he closed the door, undid the chain, and opened the door wide. "Newkirk, I didn't expect to see you here."

"How are you General?" asked the Englander with a smile on his face. "I'd heard you retired in 1954."

"Come in. Come in." Butler held his door open allowing the Englander to enter; Butler quickly looked around outside before closing the door and gripping Newkirk by both arms. "It's so good to see you again. How are you? Have you heard from LeBeau and Carter? Have you seen Kinch since the last time?"

"It's good to see you, too, General," Newkirk said with a smile. "To answer your other questions, I'm fine. LeBeau and Carter and taking care of something; and the three of us just left Kinch in fact."

Butler motioned towards the sofa for Newkirk to have a seat. "Can I get you something to drink? Some Scotch perhaps?"

As he sat down, Newkirk could tell from Butler's eyes the minute he saw him that the man had been already had a couple but he didn't comment on it. "No thank you, General, I'm fine." He was about to wonder if the General was going to pour himself another drink when he got the answer to his question. He watched as the man, after pouring himself a glass of Scotch then walked over to the chair near the sofa and sat down facing the Englander. He took a sip of his drink and studied Newkirk's face intently.

"I've got a feeling I know why you're here," he said. "You, LeBeau and Carter were here about six months ago to visit Hogan's grave with Kinch, and now you're all here again. That tells me your visit has to do with Hogan."

In as few words as possible, Newkirk repeated the story of what happened in the bar/restaurant while Butler listened. When the Englander was finished, he leaned forward with arms on thighs rubbing his hands together. His green eyes never strayed from the General's face. He felt badly for the retired man knowing how close Butler had become to Hogan before and during the war and even after. Even now, after all this time, there was still a sadness in the man's eyes that Newkirk had first seen during Hogan's funeral.

"So, you and the others believe somebody wanted the four of you together in order to pass on information that questioned both the crash and Hogan's death." It was more of a statement than a question.

"That's about the size of it, General," Newkirk replied. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me something as you knew the Gov'nor better than anybody."

Butler shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing I can tell you about Hogan that you and the others didn't already know."

"I know that, sir. But I guess what I'm lookin' for is since the Gov'nor's promotions. I mean, all of us kept in touch and all after Stalag 13 was liberated. But every time I talked with the Gov'nor on the phone or received a letter from 'im, I always felt like he was withholdin' something; something he didn't want me to worry about. I'm hopin' you might now if there was something."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can tell you, Newkirk," said Butler before taking another sip of his drink.

Newkirk's eyes narrowed and his eyebrows knitted together. All the time he spent growing up on the backstreets of London, he had learned to read people and get a sense as to when someone was lying to him, and that sense was active now. The General was lying about something, or at least hiding something. Retired or not, the man was a General and he was a civilian. How far did he dare push? He chewed his lower lip and decided the goal was too important.

"General, and I say it with all due respect, sir, One thing General Hogan taught me as me commanding officer was how to read people and know when they're holdin' back. And sir, me gut says you're holding something from me. Now, don't you think you owe the Gov'nor to tell me what that something is especially if his death wasn't an accident?"

Butler sighed wearily. "Newkirk, if it were anybody other than you I would be offended by those remarks. But as it's you I will overlook it because I know how close you were to Hogan, and it's natural considering the enemies he made in Germany, some of whom the military is aware escaped Germany, that you're looking to blame his death on one of them. But there is nothing I can tell you. If there was I would, believe me."

* * *

He stood outside the hanger staring off into the distance as he blew cigarette smoke from his nose. There was a smile on his face as he watched the plume of smoke dissipate into the air. Things had gone so well a year and a half ago he couldn't believe it. When he was first approached and ordered to carry it out, he was concerned it wouldn't work. But the more he thought about it the more he began to realize it just might. And nobody was the wiser; not then, and not now. He chuckled. Things had gone so well indeed.

* * *

(1) General Butler was believed to be Hogan's boss and there was never any first name mentioned, so I invented one and had him retired for purposes of this story.


	3. Chapter 3

****A/N: Part of this chapter is a bit on the graphic side in describing Hogan's accident, and there is reference to racial discrimination.****

**Chapter 2**

Kinch returned to his office and hung his cap up on the coat tree in the corner near the door through which he entered. He sat down behind his desk and removed the envelope he had been given and removing the contents again, unfolded and spread them out on the desk in front of him side-by-side. He wanted to study them carefully and thoroughly now that he was alone before he decided what his next course of action would be. For some reason the first thing he wanted to study was the accident report.

He immediately noticed that the National Transportation Safety Board had not been called in to aid in the investigation.(1) He knew with military aviation accidents, the NTSB had to be invited unlike with commercial airlines. And even the death of a three-star General didn't warrant the NTSB being invited. Everything was in the hands of the military. Also, as there were no recordings of the conversations between the pilots, he would have no way to know whether or not something had happened to the crew before the incident.(2) So, he turned his attention to the description of the accident and the copies of the photos which were stapled together.

The photos were hard to look at as the plane had broken into pieces upon impact and was scattered over a wide area. And even though it had been more than a year, the photos still caused a vise-like grip on Kinch's heart as he looked at them, one photo in particular. It was a photo showing a covered body lying a few feet away from the plane and another covered body a bit further away. Kinch knew from the report that Hogan and his aide had been thrown from the wreckage with Hogan's body landing about seventeen feet away from the debris, and the aide about twenty-feet away. The remains of the pilot and co-pilot were found inside the plane still in their seats.

He quickly turned the pages of the photos over and scanned the witness statements from people on the ground who had witnessed the accident first-hand. He saw there were five of them; quickly reading through them, one thing he noticed was consistent was they all pretty much said the same thing, and that was that the nose of the transport was struck by a powerful bolt of lightening during the severe thunderstorm which was passing through the area, and that the plane suddenly spun out-of-control before nose-diving towards the earth and breaking up before it crashed into the ground and burned.

Next he studied a copy of the attached weather report which had warned of bad weather with strong winds, thunder and lightening. But why were they that close to the storm to begin with? Was the storm so large they couldn't fly around it? And if so, why didn't they fly above the storm? These questions nagged Kinch at the moment, and hopefully would be answered as he read further. Turning his attention back to the accident report, the cause of the plane spinning out-of-control was due to mechanical failure after the lightening strike.

Reading further, it was believed that mechanical failure caused a loss of electrical power which caused a gradual loss of cabin pressure and probably a loss of other systems as well. It was also determined that the warning did not sound indicating that there was a loss of cabin pressure. And that loss caused lightheadedness and fatigue in both the pilot and co-pilot and made both of them too confused to fly the aircraft properly. In fact, they may not have even realized there was a problem, and the lightheadedness and fatigue eventually affected Hogan and his aide as well. On the surface, to Kinch anyway, it looked like an accident caused by a lightening strike, nothing more. The report was pretty much cut and dry; indicating those on board never had a chance.

Next, he examined the death certificate of General Hogan carefully and wondered why the cause of death would be highlighted. He then studied the medical examiner's report based on the autopsy performed by an Armed Forces Medical Examiner at Walter Reed Medical Center. He swallowed the lump in his throat and his eyes misted over while reading the document. Hogan's injuries were numerous, and included many facial lacerations, two broken legs, two fractured thigh bones, two shattered collarbones, and numerous other broken bones. He also suffered severe burns, and a fractured skull. According to the report it was determined he died on impact. In fact, the military was forced to take the fingerprints of everybody on the transport for purposes of identification as visuals were made impossible by the burns. The official cause of Hogan's death was injuries sustained in the plane crash.

Exhaling deeply, Kinch pushed the documents away from him and leaned back in his chair. So far he had read and seen nothing unusual in the documents; yet someone saw something in these same documents that in their opinion, warranted somebody, particularly Hogan's former team, to look into the General's death. Leaning forward in his chair, Kinch massaged his forehead as he stared at the documents. He could feel the beginnings of a headache. What was he missing? What was it that he wasn't seeing that someone else had? With a weary sigh, Kinch picked up the papers again and began to reread.

It was then that Kinch noticed something he hadn't the first time which was missing and should have been included with the autopsy report and wasn't. Where was the toxicology report on Hogan? Quickly going through the remaining pages he didn't find the report and found his curiosity peaked by the missing document. _As bad as the injuries were, how could they not want to know whether or not something affected him prior to or during the flight? _Kinch thought. _Blood work is nearly always done. I mean, the Colonel could've been incapacitated somehow prior to the crash. Maybe the pilots were as well._

Kinch figured one of the first things he had to do was check and find out if toxicology tests were done on the pilots, and if it was, what was found and was one done on Hogan. And if it was, what did it show.

* * *

Newkirk, saying goodbye and leaving General Butler's house, slid behind the wheel of his rented car and drove away deciding to get something to eat before heading back to the hotel and waiting for the others to return. He figured while he was waiting, he would call his wife in London and check on her and the children. A smile appeared on his face whenever he thought of Clarissa and the three children, Peter Jr., Janine and Alexander. He knew she would miss him and not like it when he told her he couldn't return home just yet; but that she would understand why he had to stay longer than he planned. She had met Colonel Hogan shortly after she and Newkirk became engaged, and liked him very much. She was also upset and saddened at the news of his sudden death. It was like losing a member of the family she had said.

Glancing up into his rearview mirror, he immediately frowned when he noticed another car also pulling away from the curb and following him but keeping at least several car lengths behind him.

"Blimey," Newkirk muttered under his breath. "Looks like I got me a bleedin' shadow." He periodically glanced in the mirror as he continued driving, checking to make sure he was still being followed without looking around. He figured if the other car _was_ shadowing him, he didn't want to alert whoever it was that he was aware of their presence. But first he had to make sure he was being followed.

Coming to the end of the long block, Newkirk casually turned the corner and continued down the street. Looking up again, he noticed the car was still following him. Reaching another corner he promptly turned left and noticed his shadow doing the same and maintaining its distance. The Englander was now nearly positive he was being tailed. But he was still not totally positive. Also, his gut instinct was telling him it might be connected to Hogan's death. He started wondering if he had been followed when he drove to Butler's house; but he couldn't be positive as he really hadn't paid attention. He began to wonder if Kinch, LeBeau and Carter were being followed as well. He made a promise to himself to inform them to keep alert that they may have people following them and to be careful.

Until he could figure out his next move and what it would be, Newkirk forgot about eating and decided to continue driving around not going to any particular place, but to hopefully give his pursuer the impression he was heading somewhere. He suspected the driver had probably been watching General Butler's home and saw him when he appeared at the house and go inside; and after he left, had decided to follow him instead either because he didn't know who he was and was curious why he was visiting Butler, or he knew who he was and wanted to see where he was going next and who he was going to see.

"Gov'nor…." Newkirk murmured softly half to himself. "What I wouldn't give right now for one of your harebrain ideas as to what to do." Then, as if in response to his wish, an idea came to the Englander as he saw the traffic light had changed to yellow. He suddenly gunned the engine and raced through the light as it was turning red leaving his shadow stuck behind the red light. Newkirk sharply turned the corner and slowing down again knew he had a very short period of time before the light would change again. He needed a place to hide himself and/or the car as well. With eyes darting around he saw it.

There was an opening between two buildings just big enough to drive into, and though there were people on the street doing various things, nobody seemed to pay much attention to him. Quickly lining his vehicle up, Newkirk back up into the opening as far as he could so as not to be seen from the street. He noticed the people on the street glance in his direction but still not paying much attention and guessed they must be use to strange occurrences. If he had been right and he was being followed, he would soon know for sure; it didn't take long to get an answer.

Leaving the engine running, Newkirk quickly exited the car and pressed himself up against the wall to allow himself to see further down the street each way without being seen. He watched the car that had been following him pass by the opening where his car was and continue down the street. He watched from where he was until he could no longer see the vehicle. Then climbing back into his own vehicle, Newkirk eased his car from between the two buildings and heaving a sigh of relief, decided it would be best to head directly to the hotel where he and the others were staying.

* * *

General Butler paced in his living room despite the ache in his legs. He had been pacing since Newkirk had left. He recalled after saying goodbye to the Englander and closing the door behind him, he had peeked through the curtains to watch the Englander get into his car and drive away. But something made him continue watching for another minute and he noticed and became worried when he saw a car he hadn't noticed previously seen before drive down the street and in the same direction as Newkirk. But where did the car come from? Was the car following Newkirk? He hadn't seen anybody following him despite the feeling of being watched.

Turning away from the window, Butler wracked his brain trying to recall if he had perhaps missed seeing a vehicle parked outside his home but couldn't. If he had, he knew what he would've done; he would've taken his shotgun from the gun cabinet where he kept his collection of guns and approached them. He would have demanded they tell him why they were following and watching him. He would have at least reported his stalker to the local police; but he couldn't very well report a suspicion. Again, he had nothing to prove anything. But seeing that car made Butler suspect is someone was watching his house and him, must have been concerned about him for some reason. At first he couldn't figure out why he might have a watchdog, but after today he felt it had something to do with Hogan's death. It was the only thing he could think of which would warrant Newkirk being followed after leaving his home, if indeed he was. He ran both hands down his face and sighed wearily. All Butler could hope was that if the Englander was being tailed, whoever it was wouldn't catch up with him.

Then again, after the exploits of Hogan and his men while in Stalag 13, Butler knew Newkirk, though a few years older now, could probably still handle himself. But it didn't stop him from worrying and praying that whoever it was had no idea Hogan's former team was looking into his death.

Exhaling, Butler walked over to the liquor cabinet and stared at his reflection in the wall mirror again. He studied the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes and the lines that hadn't before been present until after Hogan's death. He hadn't realized until just now how much this entire situation had aged him. That and worrying about who was watching him wondering if the person would make a move against him. There was a lot that Butler wasn't sure about regarding his friend's death, but there was at least one thing of which he had no doubts. And that was that it _appeared_ there might be some sort of a cover-up taking place concerning the accident. And there was one other thing of which he was positive. If Hogan's former team was looking into things, the truth would come out.

Butler sighed wearily as he walked away from the mirror and collapsed in his chair. If Hogan died in a tragic accident, he would learn to accept it and live with the knowledge. But if it was proven to be something else, he wanted those responsible to pay and pay dearly.

"_I just hope I'm doing the right thing, Robert,"_ Butler told himself looking up at the ceiling as if gazing into the heavens.

* * *

The driver of the car which had been following Newkirk was annoyed; he had lost track of the man who had visited Butler. Pulling his vehicle over to the curb outside a bar, he slammed his fist on the steering wheel in anger. He had no idea who the man was; had never even seen him before; but the fact that he had visited the man he was assigned to watch was something he believed he could not let pass, so, when he left the man's home and drove away, he followed him until he lost him.

_What do I do now? _he thought. _I have no idea where he went after I lost sight of him._ Sighing wearily, the man climbed out of his car and walked into the bar figuring he'd best make a phone call and report what had happened and see what he was to do. After entering the premises, he allowed a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior and try and find the phone. He finally found one on the wall but it was currently being used. Annoyed, he sat down at the bar and ordered a beer which he sipped slowly while keeping his eyes on the person currently using the phone. He wanted to make sure nobody else used the phone before he made his call. As he watched and waited, he tried to figure out who the man was he saw leave Butler's house. All he knew was that he had never seen him before; but he intended to find out who he was. And if he was discovered to be trouble, he would just have to be gotten rid of just like Sergeant Bremer.

* * *

Major Desmond, having returned to his office after his meeting with General Forbes, couldn't concentrate on his reports. Pushing the papers aside, he rested his elbows on the edge of his desk and massaged his forehead with the thumb and forefinger of both hands as a giant headache was pounding in his head. He couldn't get his mind off of Captain James Kinchloe or the late General Hogan. As far as he was concerned, Kinchloe was a disgrace to the uniform and it was Hogan's fault for pushing for his promotion to an officer. _Why couldn't you have been on that transport instead of Major Bergman? _he thought. _Your kind doesn't belong in the military._ A scowl appeared on his face recalling he could have been a Colonel by now if his promotion to Captain hadn't been delayed because of Hogan. And while he was sorry the man died the way he did, he wouldn't miss him or his presence. He then thought back to his first meeting with then Brigadier General Robert Hogan.

_**(Flashback):**_

_First Lt. Desmond had only been in charge of personnel assignments for the Air Force regarding new planes and technological development three and a half years when General Robert Hogan entered his office. Recognizing Hogan immediately, he saluted the General smartly hoping to get on his good side despite his feelings about the man. He knew Hogan was in charge of working with the experimental planes and was well liked, respected by those under him, and was use to getting what he wanted. The Lieutenant had heard talk about some of Hogan's exploits as commander of the 504__th__ bomber group and of his time in a POW camp, and was jealous of the rewards the man was reaping because of it. Desmond couldn't for the life of him understand how someone could be promoted simply for being commander of a bomber unit and spending three years as a prisoner-of-war while he had been shot at repeatedly while flying missions over the Pacific. As far as he was concerned, Hogan was being handed things on a silver platter because of Stalag 13 and it wasn't fair. But that wasn't the worst thing._

_He'd heard that Hogan had a black man as an aide who apparently was with him in the POW camp that he was close to by the name of James Kinchloe and was pushing for him to be promoted to lieutenant. How __**dare**__ the man! Hogan should know better than to push for one of 'them' to advance in rank in this man's military. Once the two men took their 'discussion' at Hogan's insistence to Desmond's office, he had continued talking to Hogan about it and made his feelings known that pushing for a black man to be promoted to lieutenant, much less having him as an aide, would be an embarrassment to his reputation and he would be looked upon as a 'nigger lover' by people. He was trying to do the man a favor. Instead, Hogan's eyes flashed darkly and his face turned a deep crimson indicating he was angry. He had heard whispers about Desmond and what he had heard he didn't like; the man had problems with racism being only one of them. The other military personnel seated nearby grew silent as the two officers squared off with each other. They were secretly hoping the General could do something about Lt. Desmond. _

"_Are you quite done, Lieutenant?" Hogan hissed._

"_Yes, sir," Desmond replied with more confidence than he felt previously. He waited as Hogan got to his feet and closed the door to the officer's office, then turned around and approached the man's desk. Leaning forward with palms face down on the desk, Hogan brought his face very close to the man._

"_Lieutenant, and I use the term loosely," Hogan continued coldly. "You don't tell me who I can or can't recommend for a promotion. I detest your attitude and will be filing an official complaint with your commander, Major West. So to help yourself, I suggest you approve my request for Sergeant Kinchloe to be promoted to Second Lieutenant." He then straightened up, turned abruptly, and exited the man's office mumbling under his breath. Shortly after the General had left the office, Desmond could hear the soft snickers from those outside his office. He was pissed and worried at the same time. In fact, he was so involved in his own thoughts he at first didn't notice his assistant, Sergeant Hightower, who had been silently standing outside the closed door, walk in and stand in the doorway._

_Lt. Desmond, sir?"_

"_What!" Desmond snapped, his face contorted in anger and eyes blazing mad._

_The Sergeant hesitated at the outburst, not quite sure how or if he should continue. "Uh, I just wanted to see if you needed anything, sir."_

"_Just get out the hell out and close the door, Sergeant."_

"_Yes, sir." Hightower closed his commander's door then looked at the others looking at him questioningly. He suddenly smirked and gave the 'thumbs up' sign causing smiles and chuckles among the others. _

_Desmond found out a week later that Hogan had indeed kept his word and talked to his commanding officer and because of prior verbal warnings due to other 'incidents', he was advised by his commanding officer, Major Matthew West, that he would be receiving an official reprimand, a copy of which would be placed in his file. And when promotion-time came up, Desmond, who had been up for promotion to Captain, was passed over. From that moment on he despised Hogan and Kinchloe with a passion._

_**(End of flashback):**_

The ringing of the desk phone brought him out of his recollections. Picking up the received he pressed it to his ear. "Desmond," he said slightly annoyed. He listened to the voice on the other end and grunted occasionally in response to what was being said. He sighed wearily. "I think I know who the person is from your description. Don't do anything yet. Let me make a phone call first and get back to you. Just remain where you are until you hear from me."

* * *

(1)NTSB or National Transportation Safety Board was established as an independent organization April 1, 1967. They must be asked to investigate a military aviation accident unlike with commercial or private planes.

(2) I have found nothing to indicate the cockpit voice recorder and the flight data recorder or the 'black boxes' as they are known were used by the military during the time-frame of this story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

Knowing what he had to do first, Kinch picked up the receiver and dialed the extension of Sergeant Jeremy Kinnelon, one of the men under his command, and waited as the phone on the other end rang. As Kinch was the senior-ranking aide, he served in the capacity of coordinating the other aides and others of the General's personal staff. He heard the click on the opposite end as the other phone was picked up.

"Sergeant Kinnelon? This is Captain Kinchloe. I need you to contact the Institute of Pathology at Walter Reed Medical Center for me. Ask for the Medical Examiner Captain Wolper, and buzz me when you have him on the line. Thank you." Kinch hung up the phone to wait. He wondered how Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk were making out with their assigned tasks. He was brought out of his reverie by the ringing of the phone; he picked up the receiver. "Hello? Excellent, Sergeant. Put him through."

Kinch waited a few seconds before someone got on the phone. "This is Captain James Kinchloe, Pentagon. Who am I speaking with?"

"_This is Captain Bruce Wolper. How may I help you Captain Kinchloe?"_

"Captain, I have a copy of an autopsy report dated March 13, 1954 for a General Robert Edward Hogan and the toxicology report seems to be missing. I was wondering if you ran one on him, Major Jack Bergman, Captain Roger Carver and Lieutenant Roger Martin?"

"_Of course I ran a toxicology test on General Hogan and everyone on the plane. The Air Force insisted as it was a three-star General who died and wanted to cover all the bases, plus it's standard procedure. But that was a year and a half ago. Why this sudden interest now?"_

Kinch hesitated as he didn't want to disclose too much information. "Just reviewing several files for completeness, and I noticed the toxicology test was missing from General Hogan's file. Thought I'd check and see if one was done on him and each of the victims of the crash."

"_If you'd like, Captain, I can check my files and have a copy of the toxicology tests sent to you. But a copy of the reports would have been sent to the Pentagon as well. Did you check with them?"_

"Yes I did, Captain. Before I called you. They weren't able to find a copy of any of the toxicology reports. They determined they apparently never received a copy of them."

"_That's very strange indeed. I'll pull the originals and have copies sent to you. I'll get back to you, Captain. Give me your phone number."_

Kinch hung up after giving Wolper his direct number and then went back to the papers he had been given and rubbed his chin wondering why the toxicology tests hadn't been included with the paperwork regarding the autopsy. Did the person who dropped the envelope off with the waitress not have it? Or did he purposely withhold the information? But if he purposely withheld the information, why bother giving him the autopsy report to begin with? And the biggest question Kinch needed the answer to was what was in the toxicological report have a bearing on why the pilots didn't fly around or above the thunderstorm. Wrack his brains as he might Kinch could not come up with an answer to any of the questions. Then, another memory flooded his mind replacing the questions.

He was suppose to be on that transport with Hogan instead of Major Bergman, and by some divine intervention he supposed, he wasn't able to go because of a last minute occurrence that Hogan was suppose to handle but instead asked Kinch to handle for him. Hogan then took Major Bergman with him on the transport instead. Kinch recalled the occurrence as if it had just happened.

_**(Flashback):**_

_Hogan walked into Kinch's office the morning of the day the two of them were scheduled to leave for Maryland; Kinch was on the phone and looked up and smiled when he saw his commanding officer walk in and sit down in the chair facing his desk. Noticing the look of urgency in Hogan's eyes, Kinch promised the person on the phone he would call them back and hung up, giving Hogan his complete attention. _

"_Something wrong, General?" he asked._

_Hogan exhaled and ran a hand over his dark hair now sprinkled with gray. "Kinch, I'm going to have to take Major Bergman with me to Maryland instead of you. I'm sorry."_

_Kinch's eyes widened in surprise. "Why? Did something happen? I thought you and I were scheduled to attend this meeting."_

"_I still am. But as I said, Major Bergman will be accompanying me instead. I need you here to handle something for me and other than me, you're the only other one he asked for because of your expertise with radios."_

"_He, sir?"_

"_General Butler. He'd normally have one of his own aides handle this, but one of them is on leave and the other is handling something already for the General. He asked if I could have Major Bergman check out this new experimental radio system that I am very interested in, but Bergman's specialty is engines, not radios. And you are the best radioman there is, Kinch, so I recommended you to the General and he agreed. So while I'm gone, I want you to check out this new system and let the General know what you think. I should be back in a few days anyway so you won't have time to miss me." Hogan smirked when he said the last sentence._

_Kinch exhaled deeply. He was sorely disappointed and he knew that Hogan knew it; but he would do what he was ordered without question. _

"_Do you think this experimental radio has potential, sir?" he asked._

_Hogan, leaning back in his chair, crossed his legs and wrapped his arms around himself in that familiar habit he had and Kinch knew so well. "We've been interested in it for awhile and it has great potential. I'd check it out myself but I couldn't talk my way out of attending this meeting in Maryland." Hogan rubbed his chin as his eyebrows knitted together. Kinch noticed how exhausted Hogan looked, but he also noticed something he had noticed several months ago. Hogan looked worried about something; and although Kinch had asked him several times what was troubling him, the General refused to discuss it and claimed it was nothing but him being overworked. But Kinch knew better; from all their years together, he knew when Hogan was worried or keeping something from him_

_Kinch sighed. "Can I ask you a question?"_

_Hogan knew what was coming. "What's on your mind?"_

_Pursing his lips, Kinch chose his words carefully. "Sir, something's been troubling you for awhile now and you always tell me it's nothing except being tired. But I know you. You're keeping something from me so I won't worry. I wish you'd tell me what's wrong and let me help."_

_Hogan exhaled. Kinch knew his so well. But he didn't want Kinch involved. It wasn't his aide's place to look after him. Hogan felt he could handle this matter on his own when he returned from Maryland. He smirked and studied his aide's face. "I told you before there is nothing wrong and I meant it. I just get melancholy sometimes and it gets the better of me, that's all." Hogan smiled getting to his feet. "I'll see you when I get back and you can tell me all about the radio system."_

_Kinch's face showed his dejection but again decided not to push Hogan because he knew from experience it would get him nowhere. He got to his feet and faintly smiled. "General, have a safe flight," he found himself saying with concern although he didn't know why he should feel concern. After all, the General had flown in a transport dozens of times with no problems. He chalked it up perhaps because this time he wasn't going with him. _

_Hogan grinned as his hand grabbed the doorknob. He looked back over his shoulder. _

"_Don't worry, Kinch. I promise I won't try and fly the plane this time. See you when I get back."_

_**(End of Flashback)**_

And that was the last time Kinch recalled speaking with Hogan. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He remembered checking out the experimental radio system with a sergeant under his command and finding it met all the requirements and even exceeded the expectations Hogan had and would be pleased. And as Major Bergman wasn't available, Kinch reported his findings to General Butler instead. When Kinch gave his report, he found Butler considered his opinion just like having Hogan's and that was good enough for him. But like his commanding officer, Kinch noticed something was troubling Butler. But when he asked, the General denied anything was wrong so Kinch didn't pursue it with him either.

The ringing of his telephone brought him out of his fog. Picking up the receiver he pressed it to his ear while leaning back in his chair. "Captain Kinchloe."

"_Captain, this is Captain Wolper from Walter Reed Medical Center. I'm afraid I have some bad news."_

Kinch felt his body stiffen at those words. "What's the bad news exactly?"

"_We searched everywhere and cannot find the original toxicological test reports for General Hogan or anybody else you asked about."_

Kinch sat up straight in his chair now. "What do you mean, you can't find the toxicological tests for anybody, Captain? Are they misplaced or misfiled perhaps?"

There was a pause on the other end. _"No. They're missing. The toxicological tests on everybody are gone and I'm positive we mailed the copies to the Pentagon."_

Kinch's eyes narrowed. "Missing? How could they be missing?"

"_I….I don't know, but they are. And if the Pentagon doesn't have copies of the reports, there's no way to redo the tests. And as the General's death took place nearly two years ago and because of other autopsies and toxicology tests I've done since, I couldn't possibly tell you what, if anything, was found. I'm sorry." He heard Kinch exhale._

"So am I," Kinch finally replied. "I would like for you to continue looking for those reports, and if you find them please call me immediately. And thank you for your time and your help. Goodbye, Captain." Kinch hung up the phone, rested his elbows on his desk and rested his chin on his clasped hands. Something was definitely wrong. Kinch knew that documents were misplaced, misfiled or lost all the time, but not all originals and copies of the most important documents regarding a fatal plane crash. Kinch began to suspect that there might be something in those toxicology reports that somebody didn't want anybody to see, and possibly intercepted the copies before they even reached the Pentagon, and Kinch was determined to find out what was going on and what happened to those reports.

* * *

General Butler was standing by his living room window gazing out at the street, wondering if there was somebody parked somewhere out there watching him. But despite that concern, he also wondered if Newkirk believed him in the end when he assured him he had no idea if Hogan was hiding anything from his former team when he was in contact with them. He had a sneaking suspicion he didn't believe him; after all, Hogan had once told him Newkirk was a suspicious person and had been like that the entire time he'd known him. And if that was true, then the Englander probably knew he had lied to him about Hogan and what he didn't want his former team to know. He remembered the day Hogan had come to his office one day with a concerned look on his face.

_**(Flashback):**_

"_Come in," Butler ordered as he continued signing reports and only paused long enough at the sound of the door opening. He smiled warmly when he saw Lieutenant General Robert Hogan walk in and, coming to attention, saluted Butler who returned to salute and smiled affectionately. "What can I do for you?"_

"_I'm requesting a conference with the General."_

_Butler put down his pen sensing something was on his friend's mind and gave him his full attention. He motioned to one of the two plush chairs in front of his mahogany desk. "Have a seat, Hogan, and tell me what's on your mind." He clasped his hands on top of his desk waiting as Hogan took a seat. From the look on Hogan's face he sensed it was possibly not a military problem but wasn't sure. _

"_Sir, there's something going on and I believe it involves me. But I have no idea who's behind it."_

"_Is it a military problem?" Butler asked with concerned eyes._

"_I thought so at first, but now I'm more concerned it's personal."_

"_Tell me what's happening, Rob."_

_Hogan took a deep breath before he began. "For a month I've been receiving phone calls here and can hear somebody on the other end but they don't say anything, they just hang up. At first I thought it might be a gag of some kind, but then the calls started coming to my home as well, and I no longer think it's a gag anymore." _

"_Do you think somebody's out to get you? I mean, you made a lot of enemies in Germany and since then from your work in the Berlin Airlift and during the Korean War."_

_Hogan massaged his forehead. "Anything's possible I suppose," he said sounding weary. "But it's definitely somebody from my days at Stalag 13 who wants me to remember them. Especially after this morning."_

"_Why do you think that?"_

"_The call I got this morning the voice would only say 'remember Stalag 13' and then hung up."_

_Butler's eyebrows arched. "Any ideas who might be behind it?"_

"_Could be anybody. But Major Hochstetter comes to mind immediately, and he did escape from Germany before he could be arrested. As you know he was obsessed with me and blamed me for things when I wasn't even around."_

"_I know. Last thing we heard about him was that he had escaped to Argentina." Butler paused for a minute. "Does Kinch know what you've just told me?"_

"_No and I want to keep it that way. He'd only worry about me and I don't want to drag him into this. Besides, Kinch suspects something's up and I don't know how long I can keep ducking him. He knows me too well."_

_Butler leaned back in his chair and studied his friend's face and could see the toll this was taking on him. "Rob, we can send somebody else to this meeting in Maryland in your place. At least here we could protect you if somebody is out to get you."_

"_Absolutely not!" Hogan replied adamantly, straightening up in the chair and leaning forward. "Having any kind of protection will just draw more attention. I think to get him or them to expose themselves, it would be better for me to go to Maryland because I think it's what someone would least expect me to do in this situation. We carry on business as usual and come up with a plan to get whoever it is to slip up." _

"_You have a plan?"_

"_Not at the moment, sir. But let me think about it while enroute to Maryland and we'll talk again when I get back in a few days." Checking his watch, Hogan noticed the time and got to his feet. "Kinch and one of his men will check out the radio system for you while I'm gone, and Major Bergman will accompany me on the trip instead."_

_Butler got to his feet and walked with Hogan to the door. He grabbed the doorknob. "Be careful, and have a good trip. He opened and held open the door for Hogan who saluted._

"_I will, sir. And thank you," said Hogan. Butler returned the salute and closed the door behind his friend, a worried look crossed his face as a feeling of impending disaster took over. _

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Butler massaged his forehead; it was the last time he saw and spoke with his friend as several hours later Hogan was dead. Knowing what he knew after word of the crash was reported just about broke him. He couldn't figure out how it could happen much less what happened. Had lady luck finally turned her back on Hogan? He had read the accident report and the witness statements verifying the plane had been struck by lightning before the crash. Nothing unusual about that. Butler knew a powerful lightning strike could bring down a plane.

Also, the plane had been checked out thoroughly by a maintenance crew and the pilots before the passengers boarded and the plane took off. So what had happened? Or did nothing happen at all and it was just a freak accident?

Butler didn't know which it was. But he couldn't ignore that nagging feeling he still had. And considering what Hogan had told him before the transport took off, he intended to find out what the answer was. He just had to know the truth.

* * *

Major Desmond ran his hands down his face before shaking his head and staring at a spot on his desk. _"How did I get into this?"_ he asked himself. _"All I wanted was to get rid of him. That's all I wanted. I just wanted to get rid of him."_

The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts. He picked up the receiver and pressed it against his ear. "Major Desmond."

As he listed to the voice on the other end he swallowed nervously. He could feel his uniform shirt suddenly sticking to his body. "No, sir. They don't know anything and they have no proof of anything. But Captain Kinchloe is another matter. He was Hogan's aide and he might ask….yes, sir, I know he's my problem. It's just that you promised if I helped you with your problem, you would help me with mine. Yes, sir. Don't do anything about the one called Newkirk or Captain Kinchloe except make sure they discover it was just a terrible accident. I understand, sir. I'll tell him since he's waiting for my call. Goodbye." He hung up the receiver and stared into space again. _How did I get into this?_ he thought. Thinking back, Desmond recalled a meeting from a year and a half ago.

_**(Flashback):**_

_Desmond sat alone at a table in the back of his favorite luncheonette sipping on a cup of coffee. Having finished his lunch, he was in no rush to get back to work, especially with the day he was having. His mind went back to the new employee in his unit; a black man. He ran a hand over his hair. Great. Now he had one of them working for him. Just how he was going to deal with it he didn't know nor did he even have an idea at this point._

_So absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the man standing beside the vacant chair across from the Major. "Excuse me," the man said in a friendly voice. Desmond looked up as if just awakening from a dream and noticed a tall man with neatly cut light brown hair and brown eyes holding a cup of coffee smiling at him. "I'm sorry but this seems to be the only empty seat here. May I sit down?" Desmond gestured toward the empty chair not really wanting any company, but not wanting to be rude either._

"_Thank you, Major," the man said pulling out the chair and sitting down. He took a sip of his coffee and then stared at the man across from him. "You're Major Maxwell Desmond, aren't you?" he said. _

_Desmond's eyes narrowed. He knew his last name was on his name plate; but how did this man know his first name? "Do I know you?" he asked warily._

_The man smirked. "You don't know me at all. We've never even met. But I know you, Major. In fact, I know all about you."_

_Desmond's eyebrows knitted together. He chuckled at what he was hearing from this perfect stranger. "Oh yeah? And just what is it you __**think **__you know about me?" _

"_You're divorced; your ex-wife's name is Olivia; you have 3 children who live with her, a thirteen-year-old boy named Alexander, a twelve-year-old girl named Charlotte, and a fourteen-year-old girl named Maggie. Between your alimony and child support payments you are seriously strapped for cash. How am I doing?"_

_Desmond bolted to his feet angrily now glaring at the man. "Who are you? What the __**hell**__ do you want?" He waited as the man took another sip of his coffee. "Just so you know I don't give in to blackmail."_

_The man sat his coffee cup down calmly and leaning forward onto the table, looked up at the Major. "Major, I suggest you sit down and take it easy. I am not going to blackmail you, I promise. You have my word. Besides, you're making a scene."_

_Desmond slowly sat back down never taking his eyes off the stranger. "If it's not blackmail, what do you want from me then?" he asked lowering his voice._

_The man smiled. "As I said, I know what a financial strain the alimony and child support payments are on you. I can help you with that. I can give you money to meet those expenses with extra left over for yourself."_

_Desmond turned his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. "Your offer makes no sense. You just didn't walk up to me and offer me money to meet my payments to my ex-wife and children. Just what is it you want from me?"_

"_It's very simple, Major. I need for you to do something for me and my associates. You agree to help us and we will help you financially. It's as simple as that."_

_Desmond was still wary but the thought of having extra money was quite an enticement. But he needed to know more first._

"_What do you want me to do?" he asked._

_The stranger finished his coffee and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Then, reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote something down on it before handing the paper to Desmond. "Not here. Too many people around. Come to that address in one hour and I'll tell you exactly what is needed from you. Oh, and Major…." he got to his feet preparing to leave. "…don't be late. The offer is one time only. Have a nice day." He then walked away leaving a puzzled Major watching his receding back._

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Desmond massaged his forehead wearily as he thought about what had transpired since that day and what was still transpiring. Sighing, he picked up the receiver again and dialed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

After speaking with the man who had called him earlier about Newkirk, Desmond again massaged his forehead as a giant headache began behind his eyes. Sighing, he balled one fist and pressed it against his mouth as he continued recalling how he got involved about a year and a half ago.

_**(Flashback):**_

_Curiosity piqued, Desmond left the luncheonette about ten minutes after the stranger did and studied the address on the paper. He figured he would have to take a taxicab as he didn't have his own transportation.(1) It took a few minutes to get a taxi, but once he did it left less than an hour to reach his destination. Seated in the back seat, the ride took about thirty-five minutes before he reached his destination which was a small house in a fairly good neighborhood. After getting out and paying the driver, Desmond studied the house and the area and noticed both the area and the house had the look of money. Taking a deep breath and anxious to find out what this man wanted before he committed himself, he walked up the walkway until he stood outside the brown door and knocked. When there was no response he knocked again only more loudly._

_This time the brown door opened and the man who had shared a table in the luncheonette with Desmond stood in the doorway; he smiled when he saw the Major._

"_Major Desmond, I somehow expected your curiosity would get the better of you and that you would come. Please come in." He stood aside and allowed the Major to enter and pass him by before closing the door and turning to face his guest. He motioned to the sofa. "Please have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? Some brandy or Scotch perhaps?"_

"_Forget the alcohol. Just who are you and what do you want from me?" asked a still wary Desmond with knitted eyebrows._

_Pouring himself half a snifter of brandy and allowing his guest to sit and forced to wait, the man drained his glass then sat it on the tray on which sat the decanter and other empty snifters on top of the liquor cabinet. He then sat down on the opposite end of the sofa facing Desmond, resting an arm on the back of the sofa._

"_Major, my name isn't important. I asked you here because I met Colonel Hogan before he was shot down over Germany. We were friends when we both served with the RAF on the Lend-Lease program and we became friends. We haven't seen each other in oh….I'd say about eleven years and I want to play a prank on him."_

_Desmond appeared puzzled. "If you're a friend of the General's then why don't you just go to the Pentagon and see him? What do you need me for?"_

"_Well, this prank is quite an elaborate one, you see. And during our time with the RAF, we were always trying to outdo each other with pranks. What I'd like to do is to get somebody inside the Pentagon to see what Hogan's up to, what his schedule is, and what he does. Things like that. As for what I want from you, I just need you to get my man into the Pentagon is all."_

_Desmond's eyebrows arched as his eyes widened in surprise. "How am I suppose to do that?" he asked._

"_You're in charge of personnel assignments, aren't you? I'm sure you'll come up with something. My man will be in your office first thing tomorrow morning. All you have to do is have him work there. He knows what he has to do. He'll contact you and you will contact me. I'll give you my phone number before you leave." The man noticed a look on Desmond's face as if he was hesitant about complying. _

_With a smile on his face, the stranger reached inside his inner jacket pocket and removed an envelope with its flap tucked inside. He handed the envelope to Desmond. "Perhaps this will help you make up your mind, Major."_

_Taking the envelope, Desmond opened it and his eyes flew open as he examined the contents. The envelope was filled with cash! He looked at the man questioningly._

"_There's five thousand dollars in there which is more than enough to pay your alimony and child support, with plenty left over for you to do what you want. And there's more where that came from. All you have to do is pass on to me whatever my friend tells you until further notice. Hogan's going to die laughing, trust me. He'll never see it coming."_

"_And all I have to do is get this guy hired at the Pentagon and tell you what he tells me?"_

"_That's all, Major," the man said with an amused grin on his face._

_The Major's eyes shifted from the stranger to the open envelope in his hands and back to the stranger. Something was nagging at him about this entire thing still. He pursed his lips._

"_Something still bothers me, however," he said._

_The man crossed his legs and wrapped his arms around his top knee, clasping his hands. He kept a friendly look on his face. "And what might that be?" he asked just as friendly._

_Desmond exhaled. "It's just that I don't see what knowing all this about the General is going to do with helping pull a prank on him?"_

_The man smiled. "It's as I said. I need to know Hogan's schedule and what he does and who he sees so I can plan my prank accordingly. Before we lost track of each other, Hogan played an elaborate prank on me, but I didn't have a chance to retaliate. I had to wait until now because he was captured by the Germans after being shot down." He chuckled. "I couldn't very well play a prank on him while he was in a POW camp, now could I?"_

"_Why didn't you find him after the liberation and he was in London?"_

"_I did try but it was impossible. Then I lost track of him and only found out he was at the Pentagon a few months ago and a General now. So, I figured now would be a good time to retaliate for the prank he played on me. But my prank will have to outdo his and he must never see it coming. But to do that, I must first get a man inside and gather some information. And then I can pull my prank." _

"_But…but why pay me money if all you want to do is pull a prank on the General?" asked Desmond warily._

"_It's very simple, Major. The information I need on the General will take time to gather, and it's only fair that you be compensated for what I'm asking of you. Don't tell me you don't want the money?" The man arched his eyebrows in puzzlement._

_Desmond mulled over what he had been told. Then, figuring he wasn't really interested in what kind of prank was going to be played on the General except hoping it might knock him down a peg, sealed the envelope and stuck it inside his inner jacket pocket. "I'll do it. Should be funny to see somebody get one over on Hogan for once." He didn't think it would be wise to let it slip that he didn't like Hogan at all as it might prove to be counter-productive. Checking his watch, he quickly got to his feet. "I have to return to my office or I'm going to be late."_

_The stranger stood up and handed the Major a business-size card with nothing on it but a phone number; Desmond took it and stuck it in his pocket. "Don't lose that card, Major. That's my direct number. What I gave you in that envelope will be given to you on a regular basis."_

_Desmond smirked. What this man wanted him to do seemed harmless enough and the man said he was a friend from West Point of the General's, so what harm would there be? Holding out his hand to the man, Desmond shook hands with him and after the man called a taxicab for Desmond, the Major departed the house._

_The man, watching through the window, waited until he saw Desmond climb inside the cab and the vehicle drive away before he sat down on the sofa again, picked up the receiver of the phone sitting on an end table, and dialed a phone number. He waited as the phone on the other end rang three times before he heard someone pick up._

"_He took the bait," he said to the person on the other end. "Tomorrow we'll get Schmidt inside the Pentagon as Andrew Wyler, custodian."(2)_

Desmond shook his head and sighed as he knew he had fallen into something even more complicated that even he had imagined.

* * *

Wilhelm Schmidt was stretched out on the sofa with his feet up casually drinking a beer and not really paying that much attention to what was on the television.(3)(4) Always a patient man, he glanced once at the telephone sitting on the end table beside the sofa. He was waiting for a call, but knew it would come eventually, and he wasn't in a hurry. In his line of work he couldn't afford to be. Even when he was a Lieutenant working Intelligence with the Nazis under the authority of Himmler, he had learned patience. He recalled when Luftwaffe General Albert Burkhalter had asked Himmler to recommend the best Intelligence man he had, and Wilhelm Schmidt was the one. He reported immediately to Burkhalter, told his mission, and was assigned to Barracks two where then Colonel Robert Hogan who was the Senior POW officer at Stalag 13, resided.

He recalled his mission was to find out how information was being funneled to London, report it to Burkhalter, and let whatever happens, happen. He didn't care who was caught in the scheme, his job was clear. So he pretended to be Lt. James Crandall. He had made certain his uniform met the requirements as he knew the prisoners would probably check to see if he was legitimate and his superiors made sure if anybody checked on 'Lieutenant Crandall,' they would find a legitimate history which they 'borrowed' from the real Lieutenant Crandall who had been killed after bailing out of his damaged aircraft after his plane had been shot down. He smirked when he apparently had passed after being checked out. He was then assigned the bunk under the English mongrel called Newkirk by the American Colonel whose name was Hogan, and promptly settled into the barracks to carry out his assignment.

During his short time at Stalag 13 Schmidt had been led to believe that Burkhalter's aide Major Kohler, was the traitor who was sending information to London and the man was promptly arrested, handed over to the Gestapo, and was never heard from or seen again. That left finding out _how_ the information was sent; but that was when everything fell apart. Despite what happened in Stalag 13 was several years ago, he recalled it as if it was yesterday.

He'd been sitting at the table with four of Hogan's men when the American officer with a friendly look on his face, approached him advising him he was escaping that very night to England.

Schmidt recalled doing his best hoping to talk his way out of whatever Hogan had in mind. He carried on coming up with all kinds of excuses. His eyes widened when Hogan suddenly produced a pistol from the back of his pants waistband hidden by his jacket, and pointed it directly at Schmidt's head.

From that moment on Schmidt realized that somehow Hogan and his men had discovered who he was and were now holding him prisoner. But this time, unlike the past when things got tense, Schmidt suspected Hogan was not to be trifled with as from his face he could see the American wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in his head, so he kept his mouth shut and his eyes and ears open hoping to still gather information.

Thanks to Hogan, Schmidt had ended up being held a prisoner by an RAF Lieutenant he and his men were sending back to London. The RAF officer would be escorting him from Stalag 13 after climbing down into the tunnels below at gunpoint, and taken to a waiting submarine which would then take both of them to London. The English officer had promised to kill him if he tried anything during their journey; so Schmidt decided it would be best if he didn't try anything while continuing to keep his eyes and ears open as he didn't plan on being a prisoner in an English POW camp for long. He planned after he escaped, to return to Germany and expose Hogan and his entire operation. But things did not work out as he planned, and he found himself incarcerated in a prison camp throughout the remainder of the war until his beloved Germany fell to the Allies. He swore to himself if he ever got the chance to retaliate against Hogan, the American would regret the day they met. And although he was no longer a Lieutenant with the Wehrmacht, he still wanted revenge. So, while in the POW camp, he had met a few other people who, thanks to Hogan, had become prisoners like him and who felt the same way, and a friendship was born along with a conspiracy.

A few months after the war ended and he got out of the camp, he had put on about ten pounds, dyed his hair red from it's original color as well as the mustache and beard he had grown. With Desmond's help a year and a half ago, he had managed to get a job as Andrew Wyler, working as a custodian in the Pentagon cleaning offices including on the floor where Hogan's office was and whenever he knew Hogan was gone for the day, he made it a point to go through the General's office looking around. He also made it a point to go through the man's desk drawers without leaving an indication that he had tampered with the desk drawers. He was ecstatic when he came across the itinerary for Hogan's flight to Maryland for a series of meetings. He copied the information down and fist chance he got he passed it on to Major Desmond as he had been instructed. He knew Hogan wouldn't recognize him due to his change in appearance; also, he made sure to avoid Hogan if at all possible just to be on the safe side.

But there was one job during that time he had given to a friend of his which had not quite worked out the way it was suppose to. After the plane crash which had killed Hogan and the others, he was instructed the originals of the toxicology report and the copies that were to be sent to the Pentagon were to be taken and destroyed. As he had no access to Walter Reed Medical Center, Schmidt informed his bosses of such and recommended someone he knew already employed in the lab at Walter Reed who could obtain the documents. They left it to him to make the arrangements with his friend which he did, and in less than twenty-four hours, the man had confiscated the original toxicology reports from the files as well as the copies that were sealed in envelopes and ready to be mailed to the Pentagon. But the man was to give the documents to Schmidt. Before he could leave the lab with the documents, two or three people were approaching the lab. Not wanting to be caught with the documents on him, he quickly grabbed a reference book from the on top of a file cabinet and stuck the documents inside and replaced the book. He then exited the lab just seconds before he would have been caught.

Schmidt was not pleased to say the least and demanded his friend return to the lab and retrieve the papers before they were discovered. The man did the following evening only to discover the reference book he stuck them inside of was gone. When he reported this to Schmidt, the man promptly shot his friend dead and disposed of the body. The only thing Schmidt and his bosses could hope for now was that the tox reports wouldn't turn up or their plans would be for naught. Fortunately for them, the reports never materialized in a year and a half.

Suddenly Schmidt was brought out of his daydreams by the ringing of the telephone. Picking up the receiver he put it to his ear. "Hello?" He listened to the voice on the other end as his orders were explained to him. "I understand. It will be done." He hung up the phone, finished his beer and then got to his feet. He turned off the television set before going into the bathroom thinking about what he had been asked to do.

* * *

Desmond rubbed his hands up and down his face. If he had only known what the man who sat across from him in the luncheonette all those months ago really wanted to do with the information he had passed on to him, he would have refused, despite his feelings. All he wanted was to get rid of Captain Kinchloe permanently, and he had ended up being caught up in a conspiracy instead of just passing on confidential information to a third party who had no business being told the information.

He couldn't believe how stupid he had been, or how greedy. In nearly two years he had been given several thousand dollars and had built up a nice little nest egg for himself. But the cost was the purchase of his soul by outsiders who now controlled him in every way and when they needed his 'cooperation,' forced him to do their bidding by either threatening to put a bullet through his head or exposing him as the mastermind who orchestrated a scheme against Hogan for costing him a promotion and for being given an official reprimand.

But most of all, Desmond still faced with the problem of Captain James Kinchloe.

* * *

(1)a Daimler Victoria was the first meter-equipped(and gasoline-powered)taxicab and was built by Gottlieb Daimler in 1897. Gas-powered taxicabs began operation in Paris in 1899, proliferated in London in 1903 and New York in 1907. First major innovation of the taxi meter occurred in the late 1940 when two-way radios first appeared in taxis. Radios enabled taxicabs and dispatch offices to communicate and serve customers more efficiently.

(2) Schmidt is from the episode Information Please from season 2. The name Andrew Wyler was just a name I created and not used in the episode.

(3) Schmidt never had a first name in the episode so I gave him the name Wilhelm for purposes of this story only.

(4)Television was first introduced to the general public at the 1939 World's Fair. But the outbreak of WW2 prevented it from being manufactured on a large scale until the end of the war. True regular commercial network programming didn't begin in the U.S. until 1948.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

Once he had returned to the hotel where he and the others were staying, Newkirk parked and as he exited the car, looked around carefully checking to make sure his earlier pursuer wasn't around. Feeling safe yet remaining cautious, the Englander walked inside the hotel and periodically glancing over his shoulder, stepped into the elevator and was glad he was alone inside it as it headed upward. Once the elevator reached his floor, Newkirk stepped out and walked at a brisk pace to the room he was sharing with Carter which was an adjoining room with LeBeau and Kinch, with Kinch deciding while they were looking into Hogan's death, it would be better for the four of them to be together. It was only once Newkirk was safely inside his hotel room did he relax somewhat and picking up the phone, ordered room service.

Hanging up the telephone, Newkirk then got down on his knees and pulled out his small suitcase from under the bed, picked it up and rested it on top of the bed. Unlocking it, he opened it and reaching under a few personal items, removed a pistol. Checking to make sure it was fully loaded he stuck in in the back of the waistband of his trousers under his jacket, closed and locked the suitcase before returning it under the bed. Then, he laid down on his back on the bed with his hands beneath his head to relax and wait for room service. At least he now felt he was ready just in case he had unexpected company.

Newkirk thought back to the person who had been following him from the time he left Butler's house and wondered if it was because of Hogan's death he was being followed; and if that be the case, did that mean the General's death was not an accident? Was that person watching Butler's house for some reason? So many questions to be asked and answered.

"Blimey, Gov'nor," Newkirk murmured softly to the open air. "I'm startin' to think somebody did you harm. And if that's the case, I promise you I'll make whoever it is pay for what they done. Nobody gets away with hurtin' you like that." Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Newkirk recalled the last time he had spoken to Hogan; it had been shortly after he had been promoted to Brigadier General.

_**(Flashback):**_

_Peter Newkirk couldn't take his eyes off the green-eyed, brown-haired woman sitting across from him in the restaurant. In fact, she was gazing at him with the same intensity over her glass of white wine and a wide smile on her lips._

_Newkirk couldn't believe his luck when he met Clarissa Dennison at a birthday party held for his sister Mavis two years after he returned home from the war. Clarissa was a childhood friend of Mavis and Newkirk hadn't thought much of her when he first was introduced to him by his sister. She had been a skinny, gangly girl with stringy brown hair and green eyes and was more of the wall-flower type that the young men politely avoided at social gatherings, and that included Newkirk. But then the war came, and Newkirk was shot down over Germany ending up at Stalag 13 where he served under Colonel Robert Hogan who was the Senior POW officer and Newkirk had no use for officers, Allied or otherwise. But he soon learned Hogan was different from any officer he had ever met or known. He soon came to respect and even admire Hogan for who he was. The Englander matured a lot during his time at Stalag 13 and learned to judge people based on themselves instead of how they looked. He even promised himself after the war, he would never return to the existence he lived before he joined the RAF; he wouldn't disappoint the Colonel by doing anything but staying on the straight and narrow when the war was over. And he kept his promise._

_After returning to London, Newkirk accidentally bumped into Clarissa one day in town, and was stunned at the ravishing beauty she had become from the scrawny teenager she was when last he saw her. It was now love at first sight for Newkirk who after a few minutes talking and spending time with her, realized she was just as beautiful inside as outside and that he had been foolish to brush her off years ago because of her looks._

_But after several dates and spending a lot of time with her, Newkirk finally got up the nerve to pop the question and used his mother's engagement ring to 'seal the deal' as the saying went. And that had brought them a few days later_ _to the restaurant they were currently sitting in sharing dinner and a glass of wine._

_Suddenly the waiter who had been serving them walked over carrying an ice bucket in which sat a chilling bottle of champagne. He sat it on the table between the couple. Newkirk gazed up at the waiter with a puzzled look on his face._

"_We didn't order any champagne," he said matter-of-factly._

_The waiter smiled. "I know, sir. It was that gentleman seated at the bar who asked me to bring it." The waiter motioned with a hand in the direction of the bar. Newkirk, preparing to be annoyed turned and looked, and immediately a wide smile appeared as he spotted a smiling Robert Hogan seated at the bar holding up a mug of beer in a toast. Newkirk waved his former commanding officer over. _

_Getting off his bar stool, Hogan walked over to the table and he and Newkirk embraced warmly. _

"_Gov'nor, you look bloody marvelous. And a Brigadier General on top of it. What are you doing here in London?"_

"_I thought I would take a week off before I return to Washington. By the way, Kinch knew I was coming but I asked him not to tell you. I planned on stopping by to see you before returning to Washington anyway, and Mavis told me about your engagement when I spoke with her on the telephone."_

"_Wait a ruddy moment. Mavis knew? She didn't mention a bloody thing to me."_

_Hogan smirked. "I swore her to secrecy about it. I wanted to surprise you and your fiancée." Hogan looked at Clarissa and smiled._

_Newkirk slapped his forehead. "Where are me manners. Gov'nor, this is me fiancée, Miss Clarissa Dennison. My love, this here is the Gov'nor. Me former commanding officer and the finest man to wear the uniform, General Robert Hogan, only he was Colonel Hogan back then."_

_Clarissa extended her hand to Hogan who took it and kissed it. "My pleasure, Miss Dennison. Peter is a fine and dependable man."_

"_I totally agree, General," Clarissa said with a smile which Hogan found charming. He clapped Newkirk on the shoulder. "Peter, don't let this one get away. She's perfect for you, and beautiful and smart as well."_

"_That she is, sir." The Englander motioned toward the empty seat. "Please join us, General. We insist."_

"_I don't think so, Peter," Hogan said apologetically. " I mean, this is really a private celebration between you and your fiancée. I don't want to interrupt. Perhaps another time."_

"_Don't be silly, General," Clarissa interjected. "Peter and I would be awfully hurt if you don't join us and at least have some champagne with us. After all, you did have it sent over."_

"_Please say you'll join us, sir," Newkirk added as he reached for the champagne bottle._

_Hogan shrugged his shoulders before pulling out a chair and joining the couple._

"_In that case, I'd be honored," he said with a smile._

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Newkirk sighed wearily. That was the last time he had seen Hogan as the General couldn't make it to the wedding despite having accepted the invitation; but something had come up at the last minute and he was forced to cancel. The next time Newkirk had heard about Hogan was the day Kinch had phoned him with the news of Hogan's death. To say he was stunned was an inadequate description at best. He remembered he cried over the phone upon hearing the news; and then he had to tell Clarissa who was just as distraught as he was. Of the children, only Peter Jr. was old enough to at least understand why daddy and mommy were so sad despite having never met the General himself except that he was somebody very close to his parents; Janine and Alexander tried to understand, but were a bit too young still.

"Blimey, Gov'nor," Newkirk mumbled as he slowly sat up on the bed with feet on the floor. "I hope what we suspect ain't true. Kinch, Andrew, Louie and me couldn't deal with the knowledge that somebody purposely caused your death." He massaged his forehead then heard someone knocking on the door. "Who is it?" he asked.

"Room Service, sir," came the reply.

"Just a minute," Newkirk replied getting quickly to his feet. Making sure the chain was on the door he reached behind him and grabbed the pistol from his waistband, but kept it behind his back as he cracked open the door. He noticed the waiter standing outside with a cart on wheels containing covered dishes. Satisfied, Newkirk closed the door and removing the chain, held open the door allowing the waiter to push the cart inside the room and place the covered dishes on the table along with a silver teapot and a cup and saucer. Tucking his weapon back in to his waistband and adjusting his jacket to be sure it was covered, Newkirk removed his wallet and taking out a single bill, handed it to the waiter who proceeded to exit the room with his cart.

"Enjoy your meal, sir," he said as he looked back over his shoulder.

"Thank you," Newkirk answered as he closed the door and replaced the chain. He then sat down at the table and proceeded to pour himself a cup of tea promising himself he would phone his wife after he ate and update her.

* * *

Kinch had his driver stop the car beside the hanger that originally housed the wreckage of the General's transport and got out of the car. Ordering the driver to wait, Kinch hoped the wreckage was still there in the storage area and hadn't been disposed of. Remembering the photographs and accident report, Kinch wanted to see the wreckage up close and examine it for himself. If he was fortunate, he would find the answer he was looking for which would determine whether or not he needed to pursue his investigation further.

As he walked briskly into the hanger in question, Kinch thought about how much Hogan had missed flying once he became a Lieutenant General. He recalled how once he came into Hogan's office at the testing site for the new planes, and caught the General leaning back in his chair, staring dreamily out his office window from behind his desk watching the planes as they took off and came in for a landing. His expression seemed a bit sad watching the planes. One time while they were at the testing site, the General had caught Kinch standing inside the closed door of his office watching him and turned his chair around and gave his aide his complete attention knowing words were not necessary.

_**(Flashback):**_

Kinch recalled a brief conversation between them during one of those times he had caught Hogan watching the planes.

"_You miss flying more than you thought, don't you, sir?" he asked the General._

_Hogan sighed. "You have no idea. But the Air Force doesn't want me personally flying around the country risking my life. But I would give anything to just once be able to borrow one of these new planes and have a few hours alone in the sky with just the clouds and the birds for company." _

Kinch wished secretly that just one time Hogan would be permitted to fly again, but knew the Air Force wasn't willing to risk anything happening to a valuable officer like Hogan so they denied his request. And being the type of man he was, Hogan never let it show how disappointed he was; but Kinch knew because he knew the General.

_**(End of Flashback)**_

He stood by nervously in a corner watching as Kinch walked into the front part of the hanger wondering what the Captain was doing here. Though he was busy working on one of the many different aircraft types in the hanger, he covertly kept his eyes on Kinch and hoped to see what he wanted and who he wanted to see in order to determine if there was a problem after nearly two years.

As Kinch glanced at the various planes inside the hanger including several C-131D Samaritans, one of the back doors opened and an enlisted man, overalls grease coated,

emerged. When he spotted Kinch, he immediately snapped to attention and gave the Captain a sharp salute.(1)

"I…I didn't know you were here, sir," the enlisted man said nervously maintaining the salute.

"At ease, Sergeant," Kinch replied returning the salute with a small smile.

"Yes, sir. How can I help you, Captain?"

Kinch took a deep breath. "Sergeant, do you know per chance if the remains of General Hogan's plane are still in storage, or have they been removed?"

The Sergeant swallowed the lump in his throat. "I believe the wreckage is still here, sir. I think it was moved to a storage area in the hanger. Was there anything in particular you wanted to see, sir? I mean, the General's plane was gone over thoroughly after the crash."

"I understand that, Sergeant, and I don't really know what it is I'm looking for," said Kinch which was the actual truth because he didn't have any idea what he was looking for nor what he expected to find. "I just need to examine the wreckage. Can you show me where it was stored?"

"I can take you if you'd prefer, sir?" said the Sergeant.

"No, that won't be necessary. Just tell me where it was stored and I'll find my own way there."

"Yes, sir." The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and pointed to a metal door in the back of the hanger in the corner. "Right through there, sir."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Kinch replied as he walked in the direction indicated. Reaching the metal door, Kinch opened it. His eyes widened at the sight which met his eyes. The wreckage scattered on a tarpaulin spread on the concrete floor of the storage room hit him worse than the photo he had seen. It was one thing seeing a photo of the wreckage, but to see it up close and personal made what happened ten times worse. Closing the door so he could work uninterrupted, Kinch unbuttoned and removed his jacket and cap and carefully laid them on a nearby wooden chair before approaching the pieces of broken, burnt and twisted metal.

Meanwhile, in the front area of the hanger, the man who had watched Kinch walk into the hanger had seen him enter the storage room in the back where he knew the wreckage of Hogan's transport was being kept and figured this could not be a good thing. He would have to contact his superior and see what he wanted done. Excusing himself with the claim he needed to take a cigarette break, he headed outside the hanger to think. The investigation into Hogan's death was closed nearly two years ago, so why was his former aide wanting to see the wreckage of the General's transport after all this time? Was there a new investigation going on? And if there was, who ordered it? He thought back to when the wreckage was brought to the hanger trying to remember if he had made sure nothing could be found that would point to anything but a tragic accident and was sure there was nothing, but as crazy as things were after the crash, he couldn't be completely positive. And hoped if he had overlooked anything, it would have more than likely been destroyed in the crash and ensuing fire. But nonetheless, his boss would have to be informed and a decision made as to whether or not Captain Kinchloe was becoming a problem that needed to be addressed.

* * *

Going over the pieces of the transport section by section was a long, time-consuming and weary task; but one that Kinch trusted nobody to do but himself as he had no idea what he was looking for, but somehow suspected he would at least have an idea when he found something if there was something to find. He remembered the report had said after the plane was struck by lightning, it lost cabin pressure which he knew, alone, would cause drowsiness, disorientation, and even death if exposed long enough. But there was still the nagging feeling that something else was involved else why were the toxicology reports missing? So, with renewed determination, Kinch continued on his hands and knees searching through the pieces of the plane.

After what were endless hours, Kinch, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand was about ready to give up and force himself again to believe it was nothing more than an accident. The wound caused by Hogan's death had scabbed over but because of what had transpired so far, had reopened and was again fresh and painful. Getting to his feet, he rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the wreckage when his eyes caught sight of something in the remainder of the forward cargo hold. Getting down on one knee, Kinch noticed the seemingly not too damaged CO2 fire extinguisher bottles in the forward cargo pit. Knowing that they were used in extinguishing fires in the cargo hold area on the plane, Kinch picked up one of the bottles and checking it, found it to be empty. He checked the other bottles and found the same thing. His eyebrows knitted; from what he recalled from the report, there was no indication of there having been a fire onboard.

Also, looking further, Kinch knew standard operating procedure called for opening the cabin pressure relief valves prior to discharging the carbon dioxide to allow for the venting of the CO2 gas buildup in both the cabin and cockpit. As he mulled over what he found, a frightening thought entered Kinch's mind. Was it possible the carbon dioxide somehow seeped into the cockpit from the cargo hold and incapacitated the pilot and co-pilot reducing them to a state of confused consciousness and finally resulting in a loss of consciousness? Could that be why the pilots couldn't avoid the thunderstorm? Could the gas also have overcome Hogan and Bergman as well rendering them unconscious? It would only take about 3-4 minutes before the crew began fading in and out of consciousness from the gas. But the same thing would have happened from the loss of cabin pressure. Exposed to either long enough would kill a person.

"_But did the crew pass out from loss of cabin pressure before the CO2 entered the cockpit or did the CO2 enter first and then the effects from the loss of cabin pressure?"_ Kinch asked began thinking the effects of the CO2 affected the pilots and passengers first thus making the pilots unable to react to counteract the affects from the loss of cabin pressure, and the two combined indicated that everybody on board was either dead or dying before the plane was struck by lightning and crashed. It would explain two important things Kinch thought to himself. It could answer the question as to why the toxicology reports were missing, and it could explain why the pilots couldn't fly over or around the thunderstorm.

There was also one other thing this discovery told Kinch if his assumptions were correct; and that was that Hogan didn't die in an accident; he was murdered.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6**

Newkirk, having finished his meal and pot of tea, turned on the television and then collapsed onto the sofa not really paying attention to what was on; but waiting for Carter and LeBeau to return which he hoped would be soon. He recalled having phoned Clarissa and speaking to her informing her he wouldn't be coming home right now and the possibility that Hogan had been murdered and his death made to look like an accident. She understood her husband's need to uncover the truth and find who was responsible. She also made him promise to be careful and to come home when he was able. He then spoke to each of his children promising to be home as soon as he could before hanging up. Newkirk missed his wife and children very much, and very glad she gave him the time he needed. She also knew her husband would never forgive himself if he didn't stay to uncover the truth considering how badly he took the news of Hogan's death.

Suddenly hearing the doorknob being jiggled, Newkirk was brought out of his reverie and immediately got to his feet. Grabbing his gun from the back of his waistband, he stood next to the door. "Who is it?" he asked cautiously.

"It is us, Pierre. Louis and Andre," said the muffled voice on the opposite side of the door.

Grinning, Newkirk unchained the door and opened it to admit his two friends; LeBeau was holding a manila envelope in one arm. His eyes widened when he noticed the pistol in Newkirk's hand as the Englander closed the door and put the chain back on.

"Why the weapon? Did something happen?" LeBeau was deeply concerned.

Newkirk quickly told them about being followed after he had left General Butler's house.

"You okay, buddy?" asked a worried Carter looking at his best friend.

Newkirk sighed and nodded. "I'm okay, Andrew. I was able to lose the bloody stalker and then headed straight back here."

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau cried. "Vous avez de la chance le batard ne vous a pas confronte!"(1)

Newkirk snickered as he sat his weapon on the night table. "I have no bloody idea what the hell you just said, LeBeau, but I couldn't agree more."

"You think it has something to do with the Colonel's death?" asked Carter as he and LeBeau sat down on the sofa; Newkirk switched off the television. He poured half a glass of Scotch for both men and handed one to each of them before sitting down in a chair close by.

"Not ruddy sure, Carter," he replied. "But I got a funny feeling it just might. And you know what that means?"

Carter looked at the dark liquid in his glass for a long moment before eyeing the Englander, puzzled. "What?" he asked.

LeBeau rolled his eyes in exasperation as he turned to the young man. "It means that the Colonel's death may not have been an accident like everybody thinks." He took a sip of his drink.

Carter swirled the liquid in his glass as he mulled over what LeBeau just said. He took a sip and let the liquor burn his throat on the way down. A frown suddenly appeared on his face as a frightening thought occurred to him.

"You all right, mate?" asked Newkirk with a worried look at the former Sergeant.

"I just had a scary thought," Carter informed the others.

LeBeau grinned, amused as he took another sip and exchanged looks with the Englander. "Now I know we're in trouble," he said jokingly.

Newkirk chuckled. "What's your scary thought, Carter?" he asked.

Carter shifted on the sofa so he could face the others at a three-quarter angle. "Well, and hear me out first before you say anything. And promise me you won't laugh."

"We promise we won't laugh. Right LeBeau?" asked Newkirk with an arched eyebrow.

"Oui, I promise."

"Well, it just occurred to me that if someone killed Colonel Hogan, couldn't it be possible the same person might be after us knowing if we suspected Colonel Hogan was killed deliberately, we would investigate and wanted us all together?"

Newkirk and LeBeau stared at each other, worriedly. The thought had never occurred to them and what Carter had said gave them something to think about.

"Sacre Chat," LeBeau murmured partially under his breath. "I never thought of that possibility. Could it be possible?"

Newkirk pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thanks a ruddy lot, Andrew, for giving us something else to worry about."

"I'm sorry," Carter apologized looking into his glass. "I mean, I just thought it might be something to bring up is all."

"Pierre, that could be why that person was following you from General Butler's house. He might have been wanting to get you alone so he could kill you. And what about General Butler? If somebody was watching him, that means he might be in danger as well. We should warn him at least." The Frenchman saw Newkirk studying him. "Andre brought up something we must at least consider."

"I know you're right, Louie. I'll give the General a call and let him know to be careful and watch out if anybody's following him. Blimey, if I get me hands on the blighter that was followin' me and find out he had something to do with what happened to the Gov'nor, he's gonna be one sorry bastard." Newkirk then looked at his two friends. "I meant to ask both of you if you've seen anybody followin' you around?"

Carter and LeBeau exchanged looks before turning back to Newkirk. "We did not notice anyone, mon ami. But then, we were not looking for anyone. Sorry."

Newkirk nodded his head with a faraway look in his eyes. "Well, from this moment on, I suggest we all keep a sharp look-out then for somebody following us. And although he's retired, General Butler might be in danger as well." He saw the others nod their agreement. His eyes then turned to the envelope tucked under LeBeau's arm. "What's in the envelope, mate?"

Having forgotten the envelope, LeBeau placed his glass on the table and proceeded to open the envelope. "Andre and I couldn't find many newspaper accounts of the crash, but we checked everything we could and made copies." He started to remove them from the envelope but was stopped by the Englander. (2)

"Don't show them to me now. Wait until Kinch gets here later. That way you won't have to show them again." He rubbed the back of his neck. "There is something else I think we can do."

"What's that?" asked Carter.

"I still have some contacts in MI6. I could call one of them and have them search for Burkhalter and Hochstetter. Last we heard they were in Argentina. At least we can eliminate them as suspects. What do you think?"

LeBeau glanced at Carter and then back at Newkirk. "I think you should do it, mon ami. My francs are still on Hochstetter. He despised the Colonel for years and I wouldn't put it past him to want revenge even after all this time."

"And after you have done that, I will telephone my beautiful Marya and have her check around in Russia to see who may want revenge on the Colonel while he was involved in the Cold War."

Newkirk froze hearing the Russian woman's name. He rolled his eyes. "LeBeau, forget Marya. Besides, the Colonel's part in the Cold War ended in 1949 after he took part in the ruddy Berlin Airlift. He was prohibited from flying anymore after that seeing as he was promoted to Lieutenant General not too long after that. Besides, what could she possibly know about who the Gov'nor might have ticked off between 1948 and 1949 which was when the Gov'nor was involved."

LeBeau smiled. "My beautiful angel knows everything, Pierre. She is still involved in the spy business for her country and has contacts. She can check in Russia for us."

"Pardonnez-moi," Newkirk said sarcastically. "And just how would you know that?"

The little Frenchman smirked. "Because she told me when we accidentally met in France three years ago. She is still as beautiful as ever."

"Bloody hell, Louie!" Newkirk hissed. "We don't need that woman involved in this. She caused trouble every time she showed up at Stalag 13 and you know it. Why would you want her involved in our investigation?"

"She can't come to the US, mon ami. It is too dangerous with the Cold War still going on. But she could at least check with her contacts to see what, as the Americans would say, feathers the Colonel ruffled during the Berlin Airlift."

"It couldn't hurt, Newkirk," Carter chipped in looking at his friend. "I mean, there's no way we're gonna be able to get to Russia to check things out. Marya could do it for us. If she is willing to help just with that, then I think we should let her."

Newkirk, shaking his head, gazed at the still smirking Frenchman who had the look of victory on his face since Carter backed his suggestion. "Do you know how to contact her?" Newkirk asked.

"But of course," LeBeau snickered reaching into his inside jacket pocket and removing a folded slip of paper. "I have her telephone number in Russia. She said if I ever needed to…"

Newkirk held up a hand stopping him. "Please, spare me. I should have known _you'd_ have her phone number, mate. Just make sure she understands all we need is for her to check between 1948 and 1949 as that was when the Gov'nor was involved."

* * *

After Kinch, removing one of the empty carbon dioxide canisters, had one of the guards assigned to guard the entrance to the storage room with the understanding that nobody was to enter that room under any circumstances until further notice. Then, Kinch approached one of the maintenance crew whom he recognized as one of the private contractors. It was the man who, unknown to Kinch, had been watching him. "Excuse me," Kinch said pleasantly. "Perhaps I can ask you if you were one of the maintenance crew who checked out General Hogan's transport the day it took off."

"Yes, sir," the man replied. "My name's Darwin. Oscar Darwin; I'm a private contractor. And yes I was. But that was nearly two years ago. Why this sudden interest now?" His eyes glanced at the canister in the Captain's hands.

Kinch shrugged, keeping his face unreadable. "Just reviewing some files for completeness. Can you tell me how the General's plane checked out when you and other members of the maintenance crew checked it out?"

Darwin scratched his head. "Well, Captain, best as I can remember, the General's plane checked out perfectly. What I mean is that there was nothing wrong. All systems were working as they should."

"And the pilots did a pre-flight check?"

"That I don't know, sir. I assume so." He motioned to the canister in Kinch's hands. "Is that a CO2 canister, sir?"

"Yeah, it is. And it along with the others in the cargo hold were empty. And idea why that would be?"

Darwin shrugged. "The CO2 canisters are only used if there's a fire, and then there would be a warning light on the instrument panel. The pilot would then pull the T-handle and release the CO2 into the affected areas and then lower the aircraft into a descent to a lower attitude where he could depressurize the aircraft. Plus, the pilot would have to open the cabin pressure relief valves prior to even releasing the CO2."

"And if he didn't?" Kinch asked already knowing the answer.

Darwin shrugged his shoulders. " If that happened it wouldn't take long before the pilots would pass out from a build up of carbon dioxide in the cabin and cockpit."

"So what you're telling me is that the only reason these canisters in the forward cargo pit under the floor would be used would be in the case of a fire in the immediate area."

"Yes, sir."

Darwin shrugged again. "Well, sir, if the canisters were all empty as you said, then there must have been a fire in the cargo hold."

Kinch sighed wearily knowing that what Darwin had told him was exactly what he already knew; but something was still bugging him. And that was if there was a fire in the forward cargo pit, why wasn't there any mention of a fire on board prior to the crash in the accident report. Kinch figured his next stop would have to be to speak with the military air traffic controllers from that day to find out if one of the pilots reported a fire had broken out. Afterall, they were the last ones to have verbal contact with Hogan's plane before it went down.

"Thank you for your assistance," Kinch told Darwin before turning away and heading in the direction of his parked car, his driver waiting behind the wheel.

Darwin, standing in the doorway of the hanger, watched Kinch climb into the back seat of his car. This did not sit well with him at all. The Captain was asking too many questions, and his suspicions seemed to be coming true. There was a new investigation into the death of General Robert Hogan. And what was worse was that the Captain had taken one of the CO2 canisters with him. That could only lead to trouble. He had made the mistake of thinking the canisters had been destroyed in the crash and subsequent fire, but apparently they had somehow survived the crash. He began to suspect that the Captain was probably going to speak with someone on duty that day with air traffic control to see if there was any report of a fire on board the transport which would account for the canisters of CO2 being empty.

"Damn you," Darwin mumbled under his breath as he watched Kinch's car drive away. "Why couldn't you just leave things alone as they were." His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Why couldn't who leave what alone?" a voice asked. Darwin looked over his shoulder and saw one of his co-workers staring at him, puzzled.

"I was just thinking out loud," Darwin replied with a faint smile. "I always get nervous when officers are poking around."

"I know what you mean," the other man said with a laugh. "But Captain Kinchloe seems like a nice guy. What did he want?"

Darwin shrugged. "Not really sure. But I think it had something to do with that crash that killed that General. Hogan, I think his name was."

"Oh yeah. I remember that crash. Terrible thing. Guess he still can't accept the fact that it was an accident. From what I understood he knew the General a long time and they were pretty close. Must be hard for him."

"Yeah," said Darwin, not really interested in the other man's babbling. "Listen, can you cover for me for a few hours? I have something important I just remembered I have to do and it can't wait."

"You're not in trouble are you?"

Darwin chuckled. "No. But I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important."

"Sure. Go ahead. Since the boss isn't around today and I'm acting in his stead, and things are kind of slow, I can spare you."

"Thanks." Darwin replied hurrying back inside the hanger to grab his jacket. He had to let his boss know what was happening and find out what was to be done to stop everything from unraveling.

"Bruno will not be pleased," he murmured when he was out of hearing range as he hurried in the direction of his own car. "And neither will Dietrich."

* * *

(1) "Vous avez de la chance le batard ne vous a pas confronte!" means "You are fortunate the bastard didn't confront you!" Courtesy of SDL/Free Translation.

(2)The first widely used copy machine for offices was invented by James Watt in 1779.

Chester Carlson was an inventor of photocopying who was originally a patent attorney and part-time researcher and inventor, and was required by his job at the patent office in NY to make a large number of copies of important documents. Being arthritic, this was not only painful but time consuming. This motivated him to conduct experiments with photoconductivity. In 1938 he applied for a patent for the process, but was turned down by over 20 companies between 1939 and 1944 including IBM and General Electric both of which did not believe there was a market for copiers.

It was in 1944 that the Battelle Memorial Institute, a non-profit organization, contracted with Carlson to refine his process. Over the next five years the institute conducted experiments to improve the process of electrophotography. In 1947, a small New York-based manufacturer and seller of photographic paper called the Haloid Corporation, approached Battelle to obtain a license to develop and market a copying machine based on this technology. And in 1948, the word 'Xerox' was trademarked. Haloid eventually changed their name to Xerox Corporation. Information courtesy of Wikipedia.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7**

Butler sat on his couch trying to read his newspaper, but not really able to concentrate on what he was reading. Instead, his mind was on Hogan's former team. Finally giving up the attempt, he folded the newspaper, tossed it on the space beside him and folded his arms. Butler couldn't shake the worry since he saw Newkirk's car being followed by that other vehicle, and secretly wondered if the others were being followed as well. He couldn't help but worry. Afterall, he was the one who left the information at the bar where he knew the quartet would go after making certain they would gather together to investigate Hogan's death. He knew if anybody could find out the truth it would be them.

He had suspected after his last conversation with his friend that the crash and Hogan's death was not an accident. And during the official investigation, he had closely scrutinized everything looking for any hint, any clue that Hogan's plane had been sabotaged without luck. Once the investigation was complete and the crash deemed to have been caused by a lightning strike, Butler continued to investigate on his own. But he soon found that people wouldn't talk, documents and even occasionally a person disappeared before he could speak with them. He finally thought he had caught a break when a Sergeant Bremer contacted him and said he had information he should know about the crash and wanted to meet. But Bremer was soon dead before they could meet. Then came the phone calls to mind his own business and to stop asking questions or he would disappear or end up dead. It was then that Butler began to believe he was being watched and decided to get out. And now that he was retired, there was no way he could initiate a new investigation into the crash; but he could continue his private investigation with the help of the best team there was working on the outside. So, before he left the Pentagon, he made sure he confiscated Hogan's file regarding the crash and took it with him. Then, he made copies of the file, stuffed them in an envelope, and personally delivered them to a waitress in the bar after making sure she would wait on the men after they arrived. But first he made sure all four of them would arrive by having Kinch, LeBeau and Carter think Newkirk needed to meet with them, and for the others to think Kinch needed to meet with them. That way, he knew the four of them would come and be together. He knew after they were handed the paperwork he had left, they would want to check out the information as to whether or not Hogan's death was an accident or murder. And if it was murder, he knew they would find the guilty party or parties.

Butler promised himself he would do his best to keep them on the right path if at all possible and send them bit of what information he had whenever necessary. But whatever was uncovered during their investigation would be discovered on their own. But still, the General figured it was best to have a back-up plan now that the four men were here together and that he was being watched. And he had to make sure that if anything happened to him the information he had would get into the right hands and wouldn't end up being destroyed. Leaning forward he picked up the envelope sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch which was addressed to Peter Newkirk with no return address on it as he was afraid if whoever was watching saw the return address on the envelope, they would confiscate it before the Englander received it.

Getting to his feet, Butler picked up the envelope then walked to his closet, reached inside and grabbed his coat. Putting it on he stuck the envelope inside his inner coat pocket and walking to the window beside the front door. He glimpsed outside and wasn't surprised when he noticed the car that had followed Newkirk again parked across the street but a bit further down, and although he couldn't be sure, he thought someone was behind the wheel. Swearing softly, Butler let the curtain fall back in place and rubbed the back of his neck. If he had the time, he'd grab his shotgun from his gun cabinet and confront the man in the car; but as he didn't, he'd have to pretend not to notice him. Removing the chain from his door and unlocking it, Butler opened the door and walked out looking first one way and then the other before heading down the street to his destination. He was certain he would soon find out.

* * *

Newkirk, after speaking with his contact in MI6 and hanging up the phone, rejoined his two friends. Sitting down again, he noticed their expectant eyes watching him, eager for whatever information he may have been given by his contact.

"I spoke with me old mate, Robin Downey in MI6," the Englander began with a grim expression. "He says he was gonna call me by the end of the week anyway. Said they'd been looking for Burkhalter and Hochstetter even before he'd heard about the Gov'nor's death and he thought I was in London. Didn't want to contact me until he had more information and was surprised to hear from me. Seems ole Burkhalter is dead; died couple days ago."

"Mon Dieu! What happened?" asked the little Frenchman with wide eyes.

Newkirk shrugged his shoulders. "From what he could tell, Burkhalter had been living in Argentina and had been since leaving Germany. Seems he had him a mistress there who he was providin' for, and was found at her place. According to the bird in who's bed he died, the General was shagging her when he had his heart attack." A smirk appeared on the Englander's face as he shook his head.

Carter chuckled. "It's sad, but boy, what a way to go."

"Was he after the Colonel?" asked LeBeau.

Newkirk shook his head again negatively. "Robin didn't think so. Appears Burkhalter was content down there livin' the good life he was."

"Did he have anything to say about Hochstetter?" Carter asked.

Newkirk smirked this time and there was a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at his two friends. "Matter of fact he did, Louie. Seems he was also in Argentina but not livin' as good a life as Burkhalter when they found him. Robin said ole Wolfie tried to scarper when they cornered 'im again. He's been arrested and is back in the nick."

"The what?" asked a puzzled Carter.

"Prison, Andrew. Hochstetter's now in prison," replied an exasperated Newkirk. "Don't you understand anything?"

"Only when you speak English," was the American's reply.

"Blimey," Newkirk muttered under his breath as he rolled his eyes.

"Attendre une minute," LeBeau interjected. "Did you just say the filthy Bosche is in prison again?"(1)

Newkirk sighed. "Robin's still looking into that and said he'd get back to me in a few days with an update. But appears ole Hochstetter was in prison two years before the Colonel's death and had no contact with anybody either in person or by mail. He escaped six months ago and when they found 'im this time he was still bitchin' how the Gov'nor was Papa Bear and how he was responsible for the fall of Germany to the Allies."

LeBeau's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like he's responsible to me. He could have hired somebody to kill mon Colonel for him."

"I don't think so and Robin agrees with me."

"And why not? He has hated the Colonel the entire time he was at Stalag 13." LeBeau said. "He couldn't stand the fact that the Colonel always made him look like a fool to his superiors. If anybody had a motive for murder it is him."

"That's true, Louie," Newkirk explained. "But I believe if Hochstetter had killed the Gov'nor he would be braggin' about it to everybody, and wouldn't deny it which he has so far and Robin agrees. Not that he's not glad the Colonel died, mind you."

Carter exhaled. "He's right, LeBeau," he said. "Hochstetter would want everybody to know he had killed Colonel Hogan if he had done it. He wouldn't deny it and you know it's true."

LeBeau hung his head and nodded. "You are both correct, mes amis. Hochstetter would never deny what he had done if he was guilty. It's just I wanted and needed him to be guilty so badly because he hated the Colonel so much." He lifted his head and looked into the Englander's green eyes. "But if he is not responsible, then who is?"

"That's what we have to find out, mate. And we will. But you better go call Marya before Kinch gets here."

* * *

Oscar Darwin took a sip of his beer as he sat at an empty table in a bar where he had a good view of the door and could see anybody who walked in. Checking his watch he noticed he had been waiting nearly twenty minutes. He took another sip of his beer and continued to watch the door. He had called his boss prior just after leaving the hanger, and they had agreed to meet at the bar. But his boss was twenty minutes late. Darwin figured he'd wait a little while longer and if he didn't show he would leave.

"Sorry I kept you waiting, Oscar," a male voice said from behind Darwin causing him to flinch and nearly choke on the mouthful of beer. Swallowing the beer, Darwin looked around and saw the tall man with the neatly cut light brown hair and brown eyes staring at him with an amused smirk on his face and holding a mug of beer in one hand. "You seem surprised to see me. I told you I would meet you here." Walking around the table, he sat down across from Darwin. "Sorry to have kept you waiting. I came in through the back entrance before you arrived and watched to see if you were followed by anybody." He took a long draught of beer. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"That black officer, Captain Kinchloe, came into the hanger where the wreckage of Hogan's plane is stored and examined it personally. He took one of the CO2 bottles with him."

"Anything else?" asked the man his interest peaked.

"He asked me why were the CO2 bottles all empty when there was no report of a fire in the cargo hold. I told him the only reason they would be empty would be because of a fire so there must have been one. Then he thanked me and left. He was heading in the direction of one of the air traffic control towers on site."

The man scratched his chin and his eyes narrowed. "Captain Kinchloe could be trouble. He'll have to be watched more often to see if further action needs to be taken."

Darwin exhaled through his nose. "Bruno, wouldn't it be better to just get rid of him and be rid of the problem instead of simply waiting to see if he causes trouble?"

Smiling at the use of his first name by his friend, the man shook his head. "We may have to in time, Oscar," he said before taking another draught of beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "But no sense making trouble if it isn't necessary. For now we will merely watch Captain Kinchloe. If he should prove eventually to being a problem, then we will have to see about ending his career rather abruptly. I will talk with Schmidt and have him keep an eye on Kinchloe and report to Major Desmond what he is up to, and have Desmond report to me. Schmidt is already handling something for me regarding the good Captain anyway." He chuckled. "And should Kinchloe become trouble, he will be done away with and the blame placed on Major Desmond who, unbeknown to the Major, is set up to take the blame for Hogan's death as well." He noticed a puzzled look on Darwin's face. "Hogan embarrassed the good Major when Desmond was a Lieutenant and prevented him from getting a timely promotion to Captain. I can't think of a better reason for revenge on his part against Hogan, can you?"

"And Kinchloe?" Darwin asked.

"Desmond blames the good Captain as the reason Hogan embarrassed him to begin with and he dislikes blacks. Also, that knowledge is not a secret with certain people."

With a chuckle, he and Darwin clinked their mugs together and finished their beers.

Darwin suddenly became concerned. "But what if Desmond doesn't want to get involved?"

The other man chuckled. "He is already involved whether he knows it or not and has been since prior to Hogan's death. He'll have no choice but to continue being involved."

* * *

LeBeau waited impatiently as the phone on the other end continued to ring; he hoped his angel was home and not out somewhere. After the seventh ring he was about to hang up when he heard a voice he had been waiting to hear.

"_This is Marya. Who is calling?"_

"This is LeBeau."

"_My handsome small one is calling me. Are you in Russia?"_

LeBeau chuckled. "I am in the United States with Kinch, Newkirk and Carter."

"_What are you doing there?"_

"We need your help with an investigation we are doing into Colonel Hogan's death."

"_What investigation? Hogan was killed in a plane crash nearly two years ago."_

LeBeau hesitated for a moment before he repeated the information about Hogan having been murdered and they were trying to find the guilty party or parties. "Can you help us_?" _he asked_._

"_But of course. How dare somebody do such a thing to my handsome American Colonel. What do you need from me?"_

"We need to know who Colonel Hogan may have angered in Russia between 1948 and 1949 when he took part in the Cold War."

"_No problem. Leave it to me. Marya will take care of everything. Give me the phone number when I can reach you. I will check with my contacts in Russia and get back to you soon." _LeBeau gave the White Russian woman Newkirk's phone number as they always met in the Englander's room and he didn't want to miss her call back.

"Try and call me back soon, my angel," the Frenchman said softly but not soft enough where Newkirk and Carter couldn't hear him. Newkirk rolled his eyes while Carter smirked.

"_Don't worry. I will call back when I have some information. Tell the others Marya says hello. But now I must get off the phone. I will talk to you later. I promise."_

Sighing, LeBeau said goodbye before hanging up the now he was on cloud nine and when he turned and faced the others he looked it. Newkirk could only shake his head in amusement.

"Blimey, will you get that bleedin' lovesick look off your ruddy face? You're makin' me ruddy ill."

"He's right, LeBeau," Carter added. "From the look of you, you got it bad."

A scowl appeared on the Frenchman's face. "You both are jealous, that's all."

"We can't be jealous," the American said. "Newkirk and I are both married men."

"Good," LeBeau replied with a lovesick grin on his face. "Then I don't have to worry about anything."

"Oh brother," Newkirk groaned.

* * *

The man with the light brown hair, having left the bar a few minutes ago, was sitting in the back seat of his car while his driver kept his eyes on the road ahead. He was rehashing in his head the discussion he had had with Darwin, and agreed Captain Kinchloe was becoming a problem that might have to be dealt with; but he still believed it could be done without further bloodshed. But if things didn't work out that way, he had no qualms about killing. Leaning back in his seat, he smiled as he thought about what Hogan must have felt. He liked to imagine the man was conscious when he realized the plane was going down and was going to crash and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He even hoped Hogan realized he was going to die. He chuckled as he wondered if the man felt any fear at that moment. He allowed himself to recall the last conversation he had with Hogan in the tunnels beneath Stalag 13.

(_**Flashback):**_

"_Hogan, I know you are really the agent known as Papa Bear," he said mindful of an armed Carter, Newkirk and Olsen keeping a close watch on him. He had learned only moments before he would be escorted by the underground to a British submarine for the trip to England. _

_Hogan exhaled. "I see you've been talking to your fellow delusional Major Hochstetter. He thinks I'm working with the underground as well." Smirking, Hogan wrapped his arms around himself. "You guys have really too much time on your hands. Perhaps a change of scenery will do wonders for you. How about a nice British POW camp?"_

"_You are a threat to the Fatherland! I know it and you know it!"_

_Hogan shook his head. "The only threat to Germany and everyplace else is that fruitcake you have in power. Y'know who he is. The little guy with the funny mustache. Old what's his name." Hogan feigned trying to remember Hitler's name. He could see the man was becoming angry. _

"_You dare to insult our beloved Fuhrer!" he shouted angrily taking a step towards the American officer only to feel a pistol in his side as a warning to step back. He did._

"_I haven't begun to insult him yet," Hogan joked. _

"_You haven't won yet, Hogan. I will not be a prisoner in your English camps very long. And when I return to Germany, I will expose you and your entire operation. I will see you shot by firing squad for your crimes against Germany!"_

_Hogan shrugged. "A firing squad is so messy. I would really hate to have any holes in my leather jacket. A good fitting Air Force issue leather jacket is so hard to come by." Hogan's eyes shifted to behind the man as he noticed the men from the underground walk in from the changing room dressed in Gestapo uniforms._

"_He's all yours. If he tries anything, shoot to kill. He can't be allowed to escape; he knows too much."_

_One of the underground operatives pulled his weapon and pointed it at the man while his partner handcuffed his hands in front of him_. _As he was being led from the tunnel and towards the ladder leading to the entrance of the emergency entrance, the man turned and glared at the American over his shoulder who stood with Kinch, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau close by. _

"_I will see you dead, Hogan," he said is a voice that would chill a person's blood. "I don't care how long it takes, or how many years I must wait, but I will see you pay dearly. Germany will be avenged!"_

_(__**End of Flashback)**_

The man came back to the present as a grim expression came over his face. He had hated Hogan so much from the moment he met the American. He knew from the first minute he opened his mouth with his smug, arrogant tone he wanted him dead. And as he sat in an English POW camp he thought about how he would accomplish it. He knew whatever he came up with he would have to escape in order to carry out his revenge; but first he needed a plan. It was while his mind was working 24/7 on these things that he got lucky. A Gestapo officer was incarcerated and as luck would have it, he knew the man and made it a point to meet him. They talked and he discovered he had been sent to London by Hogan as well. Discovering they both had a mutual dislike for the American, he told his fellow prisoner of his intent to escape, return to Germany, and dispose of Hogan personally. To his surprise, the Gestapo officer already had a plan devised as to how to get revenge on Hogan but first needed to recruit the necessary people, and second, would have to wait for the war's end which would probably not be long the way things were going. Then, he said, then they would make their move against Hogan and repay him for causing Germany's fall to the Allies.

So, the two men set about talking to other prisoners and 'feeling' them out to see how they felt. To their delight, they found many others who felt the same way; but only two of them were willing to take part in a revenge plot against the American. One of them was Schmidt whom the man had heard of from his dealings with the Wehrmacht. One of the very best in Intelligence and a personal favorite of Himmler, he knew he would be useful to them when how the plan for revenge was to be carried out was explained to them by the Gestapo officer. He assured them if they were patient and careful, Hogan would never see it coming until it was too late. And Schmidt added that he had a friend in America who he could trust to keep an eye on Hogan for them until it was time. It was at that moment that a friendship and a conspiracy was formed.

* * *

(1) "Attendre une minute" means "Wait a minute" per SDL/Free .


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8**

Andrew Carter was stretched out on one of the two beds in the bedroom of the room he shared with Newkirk. Tired from the day's activities so far, the former Tech Sergeant decided to take a nap while he could. He figured there was nothing either he or the others could do until Kinch returned, and then they would go over everything. Also, LeBeau was hoping Marya would call back before Kinch returned, as did Newkirk hoping to hear from his friend in MI6. Until then, they could only wait. Carter knew both Newkirk and LeBeau were relaxing in the living room passing the time with a game of gin rummy; but Carter had been starting to fall asleep, so Newkirk suggested he take advantage of the free time and sack out in the bedroom which he did. Before long, Carter had drifted off. It was then the memories returned.

_**(Flashback):**_

_It had been unusually busy in the drugstore that day. It had been one customer after the other needing something from the pharmacy. In fact, Carter found himself working straight through his break and halfway through his lunch preparing medications. Fortunately for him, his boss, Mr. Abrams, was one of the nicest men he had ever known, well, other than Colonel Hogan, Newkirk, Kinch and LeBeau, and he insisted Carter take his full hour lunch and to add an extra fifteen minutes to it since he missed his break. But Carter was too tired to eat, so he simply went to a back room and stretched out on a cot that was kept there and closed his eyes. He soon drifted off to sleep._

"_Hey, Andrew," somebody said gently shaking his shoulder._

"_Go 'way," the young man mumbled still asleep. He limply pushed the hand on his shoulder away._

_The hand shook his shoulder harder. "Wake up, Andrew, you've got a phone call."_

_Thinking something might be wrong at home with his wife, Arlene, one of the older kids, or perhaps the new baby, Carter opened his eyes and hurriedly sat up rubbing his eyes. He noticed a smiling Mr. Abrams standing and looking down at him. "Who's on the phone? Is it Arlene? Is something wrong with one of….."_

"_Just hold on," Mr. Abrams said with a grin. "It's not your wife and nothing's wrong with the kids. It's somebody who wants to speak with you very much but asked me not to give his name." Carter could have sworn he heard his boss chuckle._

_Carter looked up at his boss with puzzled eyes. For the life of him he couldn't figure out who would be calling him at work. Then a slow smile crossed his face; it had to be his older brother Richard. He was always playing practical jokes on him since they were kids. Getting to his feet, he figured he would give his brother a piece of his mind for scaring him half to death. He followed his boss out of the back room._

"_You can take it here, Andrew," motioning to the phone on the wall between the back room and the pharmacy area. Mr. Abrams then walked away to give Carter some privacy; the smirk still on his face. Carter picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear._

"_Hello?"_

"_Carter, it certainly took you long enough. I was afraid you'd gotten lost and couldn't find the phone," said a familiar voice. Carter's face lit up with excitement._

"_COLONEL! I mean General. It is General isn't it? I mean I wouldn't want to call you the wrong thing because that wouldn't be right and…"_

_He heard Hogan chuckle over the phone. "Slow down, Carter. And yes, it's General. But you can still call me Colonel."_

"_You sure, sir? I mean, I don't want to be rude or disrespectful or anything."_

"_You're not. It's alright when it's just us."_

"_How are you, sir? You sound good. How's Kinch? Is he still your aide?"_

"_I'm good; Kinch is good as well. And yes he is. In fact, he's a Captain now. He was promoted shortly after I made Lieutenant General. He wanted to talk to you himself, but he had to handle something for me and it couldn't wait. I'll tell him you asked about him."_

"_Boy, it sure is good to hear from you. I don't know about you, but I sure miss the good times you, me, Louie, Kinch and Newkirk had at Stalag 13. I miss all you guys. Oh sure I keep in contact with everybody and exchange phone calls and letters, but it's just not the same."_

"_I know what you mean. It was difficult for me at first not seeing any of you guys when I'd wake up in the morning, but after several months it began to get just a bit easier. Having Kinch around does make things a bit more bearable though. Oh, before I forget, Newkirk and LeBeau send their regards. I talked to both of them and told them I was flying out next week to Bullfrog, North Dakota to visit and see that new baby of yours. By the way, you never told me in your last letter what you named him."_

_Carter hesitated. "Well, his name is Robert Edward Carter. But Arlene and I call him Robbie." There was silence for several moments on the other end for so long Carter began to think Hogan had hung up._

"_Colonel? You still there?" he asked fearfully._

"_I….I'm still here. I'm flattered but you didn't have to do that."_

_Carter allowed a smile to appear. He knew Hogan was embarrassed that one of his men had named his newborn after him. "I know that, but I wanted to. And when he's old enough, I want him to know he was named after the finest commanding officer his father ever served under."_

_Hogan was deeply touched and sighed wearily. "You don't have to say that, Carter."_

"_It's true, sir. And Arlene is looking forward to meeting you. I told her all about you and she said she's really eager to meet the man who kept her husband alive in a POW camp. I know the older kids will be thrilled meeting you too, sir."_

"_And I can't wait to meet your family next week, Carter. How many children do you have now anyway?"_

"_Four," Carter answered proudly. "There's Robbie who's only a few weeks old; three year-old Samantha Anne, and the two-year-old twins, Andrew James and Marie Elizabeth. What about you, sir?"_

_Hogan could only grin. He knew as far back as Stalag 13 how much Carter loved children and animals and always suspected once the young man was back home and married, he would probably want a large family. "Still playing the field." Hogan quickly became uncomfortable talking about his personal life. "Sounds like you and Arlene have a real handful," he said._

"_Yeah," Carter readily agreed. "But I always wanted a big family. Colonel, you do still plan on coming out, don't you?"_

"_Of course I do. The only way I wouldn't would be if something came up at the last minute that I couldn't get out of. Why do you ask?"_

"_I don't know. I just had a feeling you might be changing your mind is all."_

"_I know. And I still feel badly that I missed your wedding day but the Cold War was underway and I had strategies and missions to plan. It couldn't be helped."_

"_Don't feel guilty about that. I understood and so did Arlene. So, when can we expect you?"_

"_Today's Thursday. I should be leaving here sometime this Sunday. Kinch has made sure my itinerary is clear for the next week so nothing should interfere with my visit. So I'll phone you again in two days with my flight number and arrival time. That way you can meet me at the airport." There was a pause. "Anyway, I have to go, Carter. I have to fly to Maryland for a meeting in ten minutes. I'll only be gone for two days. Seems like I spend more time at meetings than I do in my own office." He chuckled._

"_Oh. Okay. Well, it sure was good talking with you, Colonel. And I'll await your call back with your arrival information. Take care of yourself, and have a good flight. Bye." The call was then disconnected. _

Carter had no way of knowing it would be the last time he'd ever speak with Hogan. So, when the General didn't call back after forty-eight hours, Carter felt an unexplained chill go through his entire body and felt something was wrong. If Hogan's plans had changed or something caused him to have to postpone, he would have phoned. Then Carter came home for lunch one day and found his wife in tears. Immediately going to her side he gripped both of her shoulders and turned her towards him.

"Honey, what is it? What's wrong?" he asked fearfully.

Arlene turned her red, wet eyes towards her husband's face. "A Captain Kinchloe called while you were at work. He said….he said General Hogan was killed in a plane crash two days ago. He said he would call back."

Carter didn't hear the last sentence as the words 'Hogan…killed in plane crash' keep ringing through his head.

"No!" he said shakily as tears started running down his cheeks. "Wha…what else did….Kinch say?"

"He said after the General's plane took off it was struck by lightning and crashed. There were no survivors." She buried her face in her husband's chest and sobbed uncontrollably, clutching his shirt tightly in her fists. Carter enveloped her in his arms as he cried unashamedly. "Andrew, I…I'm so sorry," she murmured against his chest.

Hogan dead? It couldn't be. He had just spoken with the man about his impending visit. He promised he would call back with his flight information. There had to be a mistake. Carter squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the sobs wracked his entire body. Just then, the phone rang.

Releasing Arlene, Andrew quickly snatched up the telephone; it was Kinch on the other end. "Arlene just told me," he said barely able to get the words out. "Tell me it's a mistake. Please tell me there's been a mistake. Please." He could hear Kinch's broken voice on the other end as he tried to tell Carter what happened. Hearing Kinch's emotional voice only made the news even more unbearable. The horrible news slowly started to sink in.

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Carter bolted upright on the bed breathing heavily. Feeling something on his face, he wiped his cheeks and looking at his fingertips noticed they were wet and figured he must have been crying in his sleep. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor before burying his face in his hands, his entire body trembling so badly he almost didn't feel a pair of hands grip both his shoulders as he felt the mattress sink down beside him.

"Andrew, mate, you all right?" asked Newkirk gently. Looking up, Carter noticed his best friend sitting beside him with a slight smile; LeBeau was sitting on the bed across from them watching him, also worried.

"I'm sorry," Carter said with a shaky voice. "I didn't mean to scare anybody. I didn't think anybody heard me crying."

"We did not hear you crying mon ami," LeBeau explained. "Both Pierre and I heard you shouting 'no' and were worried so we decided to check on you."

"That's when we saw you tossin' and turnin' on the bed, mate, and figured you was havin' some kind of bloody nightmare and better wake you up. But before we could you woke up on your own."

"Then we saw you crying, mon ami." LeBeau reached out and touched Carter's knee. "Tell us what has you so upset, Andre?"

Sniffling, Carter shifted his wet, red eyes to the Frenchman. "Two days, Louie. Two days and Colonel Hogan would have been on his way to Bullfrog, North Dakota. I spoke to him two days before he died." He looked at Newkirk again. "It wasn't fair, Newkirk. He never even got a chance to see my new baby named after him."

Newkirk squeezed Carter's shoulders and sighed. "I know, mate, I know. And it isn't fair, you're right. Nothing about the Colonel's death and this whole bloody mess is fair. But we're gonna right a wrong and get justice for the Gov'nor even if it won't bring 'im back."

Carter hung his head and shook it sadly. "Boy, I'll tell you one thing. If I had any idea it would be the last time I was gonna speak with the Colonel, I would have found someway to convince him to come visit sooner so whoever killed him would be caught off guard." He lifted his head again and with tears rolling down his cheeks, looked at Newkirk. "I know it's been nearly two years, but I still miss him. When I'm at work or home and the phone rings, I keep thinking it'll be Kinch or one of you guys calling to tell me the Colonel's really alive and it was all just a big mistake."

"Oui, I too wish the same thing, Andre," LeBeau replied with a faraway look in his eyes.

"We all do, mate," Newkirk said softly. He sighed. "But of all of us, I think Kinch has it the hardest. He was with the Gov'nor daily for cryin' out loud. And he was suppose to be on that bleedin' plane with the Gov'nor. Knowin' that has got to be eatin' Kinch up inside."

Cater suddenly exhaled deeply. "I don't mean to sound selfish. I guess I sorta forgot Kinch would feel worse having worked with the Colonel all the time. Gosh, you guys must think I'm selfish thinking only about my feelings."

"Not at all, mate," Newkirk said with a small smile. "The Gov'nor's death just hit you hard. I mean, when you first came to Stalag 13, anybody could see you idolized Colonel Hogan; and we all knew how highly you thought of him."

"Afterall, mon ami, the Colonel took you under his wing when you first arrived in camp. That much was obvious. He felt you needed to be shielded more than the rest of us from the horrors of things. We all knew that and agreed with him. Andre, please believe me when I say I am in no way being condescending towards you, but from your innocence, all of us did whatever we had to to help the Colonel make certain the things we saw did not affect you greatly."

Carter's eyes narrowed. "I didn't need to be babied."

"We don't mean that, mate. What LeBeau's saying is that we didn't want to see you lose that innocence you had while you matured."

Carter nodded slowly. He thought he understood at last. A small smile appeared. "I'm all right now," he said. "I guess the dream I had hit me harder than I thought. Thanks guys."

"You sure you're all right, mon ami?"

"Yeah, really. I'm okay. But I'm kinda hungry. What time is it anyway?"

Newkirk checked his watch. "It's a little after four. Kinch should be here before too much longer hopefully. Look, we can either order room service or go out. There's a restaurant about a block from here. I mean we could get a little somethin' to tide us over until dinner."

"I think we should eat in," LeBeau replied. "Only because we do not know when my Marya will call or Pierre's friend from MI6. We do not want to miss either one."

Newkirk got to his feet, smiling. "Room service it is then." He was soon joined by Carter and LeBeau.

"Oh no," the Frenchman suddenly said partially to himself.

The Englander sighed wearily. "What are you natterin' on about, LeBeau?"

"I just had a horrible thought."

"And what might that be may I ask?" inquired Newkirk.

LeBeau looked at the Englander and the American. "I just thought of another possible suspect who might want to hurt the Colonel as unlikely and unbelievable as it may seem."

"Who's that?" asked Carter.

"Do not laugh when I say his name because it is highly unlikely. Although, if you will think back to when Stalag 13 was liberated and the Germans were rounded up by the Allies when they took over the camp, there were some angry remarks by some of the Germans."

Newkirk looked at the little Frenchman incredulously. "LeBeau, you aren't suggesting who I think you're suggesting, are you?"

"Who?" asked a confused Carter looking back and forth between the two men.

"He must be considered, mon ami. He was very angry at the Colonel when he revealed a small portion of the operation to him just before the arrival of the Allies. He was angry believing the Colonel had made a fool out of him."

"Who?" asked Carter again.

"He's talkin' about Klink, aren't you, Louie," Newkirk asked quietly responding to Carter but looking at LeBeau.

Carter's eyes widened. "Klink? You can't be serious?" he asked facing LeBeau. "Klink would never have hurt the Colonel. Besides, he was scared of his own shadow."

"Nonetheless, he was very angry at the Colonel that day. You did not see his face when he saw the part of the operation he was shown. I was with Colonel Hogan when he did. I agree it is unlikely he was behind what happened to the Colonel, but it is often those you least suspect who sometimes prove in the end to be guilty. He must be checked out."

Taking in and letting out a deep breath, Newkirk nodded. "I'll call Robin and have him contact MI5 and have them search for ole Klink and have Robin expand MI6's search to include Klink. But I still think you're wrong about him, Louie. He just doesn't have the nerve for something like this."(1)

"Probablement," LeBeau replied. "But still he must be eliminated as a suspect. And if he proves to be guilty, he must be punished."(2)

* * *

(1) MI5 covers domestic security similar to the FBI.

(2)Probablement means probably per SDL/Free .


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9**

Kinch was exhausted when he entered his office back in the Pentagon. Closing the door to his office, he tossed his cap onto the coat rack, maneuvered the CO2 canister from hand to hand, as he shrugged out of his coat, and hung it up as well before sitting down behind his desk and placed the canister on top of it. Sighing wearily, he stared at the damaged canister while rehashing in his mind what he had learned after speaking with someone in Air Traffic Control Tower number three. And what he had learned disturbed him. Picking up the canister in both hands, he turned it around and around staring at it as if hoping it would give him the answers he sought. His attention was interrupted by somebody knocking on the door.

"Come in," he ordered. He got to his feet when the door opened and General Forbes walked in; Kinch saluted his commanding officer.

Forbes returned the salute and smiled at Kinch. "At ease, Captain." Closing the door, Forbes sat down in one of the chairs facing Kinch's desk.

"What can I do for you, General?" Kinch asked sitting back down.

Forbes, resting his arms on the arms of the chair, crossed his legs. "I know you haven't been around since we last spoke, and I was wondering how your investigation was going? Anything to report yet?"

Kinch sighed. "Yes and no, sir. I just got back in fact from the airfield." That said, Kinch quickly explained to Forbes everything he had discovered beginning with the missing toxicology reports to the empty CO2 bottles he found among the wreckage of the General's transport. Forbes listened intently. After he finished, Kinch handed the canister to the General who looked it over. "I spoke with the Air Traffic controller who was on duty that day and he told me there was no report of any fire in the cargo hold from the pilots, and the pilots did perform the pre-flight check, and the maintenance crew examined the plane prior to that so in my opinion, there is no reason for the CO2 bottles to be empty," Kinch added.

Forbes handed the canister back to Kinch, then folded his arms. He appeared thoughtful for a few minutes while Kinch looked at his boss and waited patiently. "What else do you have so far?" Forbes asked without looking at Kinch.

Kinch exhaled through his nose. "I couldn't tell you because I don't know what Carter and LeBeau discovered nor what Newkirk may have found out from General Butler. But two things worry me. One being what happened to the toxicology reports; it appears to me that somebody doesn't want us to see something that's in those reports. The other is that if there was no report of a fire in the cargo hold, then why are the CO2 bottles empty?"

Forbes, looking up now, looked directly into Kinch's eyes. "You have an opinion, Captain?"

"Yes, sir, I do. I think the contents of the CO2 bottles somehow played a part in the crash and that's why the tox reports are missing. If it did, it would explain a lot."

"How so?" asked Forbes, curious.

"Well," Kinch began leaning forward with elbows resting on his desk. "As I said, it would explain why the tox reports are missing as well as why the pilots weren't able to fly around or over the thunderstorm. If the pilots were incapacitated or unconscious, they wouldn't be able to respond fast enough if at all to the impending storm."

"But the plane was checked over thoroughly by maintenance and the pilots did a pre-flight check before the General and Lt. Bergman boarded it."

Kinch waved his hands as he continued. "Well, either somebody missed something, or somebody possibly rigged the CO2 bottles to leak into the cockpit and cargo area overcoming everybody on board. Combine that with the loss of cabin pressure and I suspect everybody on board that plane was either already dead or dying before the plane was struck by lightning." Kinch then waited for Forbes response. He didn't have long to wait.

Forbes mouth was a straight line. "Kinch, I think you've raised enough doubt regarding General Hogan's death to warrant a new investigation to be opened. In fact, when I return to my office I'll make the necessary calls to have one started." He started to rise from his chair.

"I wouldn't do that, General," Kinch said stopping Forbes who sat back down.

"Why not? I thought this was the entire reason you wanted to check things out in the beginning?"

"While that's true, sir, I think to start a new investigation now would only alert whoever's responsible that we're onto him thus causing him to go underground where we may never find him. No, sir. I think for now it's best if we keep this quiet, and allow Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau and I to continue this ourselves."

"I don't know if I like this at all. It's risky enough to have you and the others investigating Hogan's death on your own alone. If you continue with this you all may be putting your lives in danger."

Kinch chuckled. "We've encountered worse with some of our missions while at Stalag 13," he said. "And we were always in danger then."

Forbes studied Kinch's face intently; he suspected there was something he wasn't being told. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing, sir. I've told you everything." He really didn't want to worry the General with what he was thinking and praying wasn't a possibility.

The General smirked. "Kinch, Hogan talked about you a lot; all his men in fact. But you mostly. He use to tell me how you kept him grounded most of the time when things got really stressful for him and how the two of you thought alike and such. I thought he might have been exaggerating a bit. So when you became Hogan's aide, I got to watch you to see if I could see what he did, and it didn't take long to see he wasn't exaggerating. You've exceeded all expectations and I am extremely pleased with your work. I know you and Hogan used each other as sounding boards, and although I'm no Hogan, I'd like to think you feel you could talk to me as you did him about anything."

Kinch swallowed the lump in his throat. It had been hard since Hogan's death for Kinch to confide in somebody, or to even feel comfortable enough with someone to be able to confide in them. The racial tone made it even harder forcing him to just keep quiet when he would have simply knocked on Hogan's door. But eventually the need to talk to someone became overwhelming. So for a few months anyway, whenever that need arose, Kinch would pick up the phone and call either Carter, LeBeau, or Newkirk and talk. Other than Hogan, Kinch felt comfortable with his friends and knew he could confide in them and they in him. Kinch did feel comfortable talking with Forbes, but it wasn't the same, and apparently the General seemed to understand that and didn't push. Like Hogan, Forbes would allow him to confide in him when he was ready and not before unless what he needed to talk about began to interfere with his job performance.

"Talk to me, Kinch," Forbes said gently. "Perhaps I can help."

Making a quick decision, Kinch looked Forbes directly in the eye. "General, everything that happened since General Hogan's plane crash and subsequent cover-up leads me to suspect there may be more than one person involved. It's all too much for just one person to do alone. Also, there had to be inside help of some kind." There, the suspicion was out in the open.

Forbes was silent for a long while as he thought about what the Captain was implying. "If I understand what you're suggesting, you believe there may be a group of people who murdered Hogan and had help from someone in the Pentagon in covering it up." When Kinch didn't answer, Forbes knew he had guessed right. "Any suspects come to mind?"

Kinch sighed wearily. "Keep in mind, sir, that Newkirk has contacts in MI6 that are checking on two people from our Stalag 13 days, and LeBeau knows somebody in Russia who worked with us on occasion checking with her contacts there. But there is somebody else who disliked the General intensely and uh, works here in the Pentagon."

Forbes' eyebrows arched in surprise. "And who might that be?" He had heard the story about the person he believed Kinch would be revealing, and the reasons behind it. So he wasn't surprised when the next words were spoken.

Kinch hesitated. "Major Desmond, sir."

* * *

General Butler walked up the steps of his home and looked around while fishing in his pants pocket for his key to unlock the door. Before entering, he again looked both right and left and saw nobody, but was positive somebody was definitely there; he closed the door behind him. Removing his coat, he hung it up before going to his liquor cabinet and pouring himself half a glass of Scotch before sitting down on the sofa. Taking a sip of the liquor, Butler let it burn as it slid down his throat while he thought about what he had done. Sitting his glass on the coffee table, he ran a hand over his graying hair before letting himself fall back onto the sofa and fold his arms.

After having left the house earlier, he walked to the post office in his neighborhood, went inside, and conducted his business. Once he left and stood on the steps outside, he looked around to see if he noticed anybody watching him before he started on his way back home. He guessed he wouldn't know if anybody was following him or not, but he couldn't shake the feeling. However, he felt a bit better knowing that the information he had just mailed to Peter Newkirk would give him and the others what they would need in the event he didn't live long enough to see the investigation through to the end. He ran his hands down his face sighing wearily.

A sudden chill permeated his entire body as if somebody was walking over his grave. He knew exactly what that chill was, and Hogan's death was only a small part of it. He recalled another previous meeting he had with Hogan in March, 1951.

_**(Flashback-March 1951):**_

_Hogan had been wondering since he got the phone call in his office from General Butler asking him to come to his office immediately that something was very wrong. But for once, he had literally no idea what it was. Standing outside the General's door, Hogan removed his cap and after tucking it under his arm, smoothed his hair by running a hand over it before knocking on the door._

"_Come in," a voice ordered from inside. Hogan opened the door, closed it behind him, and came to attention with a smart salute. _

"_General Hogan reporting as ordered," said Hogan._

"_At ease, Hogan," Butler replied returning the salute. He gestured towards one of the two seats facing his desk. "Have a seat, Rob. There's something I'd like to talk with you about." His face was grim-looking._

_With eyes narrowing, Hogan sat down in the chair indicated and placed his cap in his lap. "Sir, is everything all right?" He noticed the General look more tired than before and had been for several weeks._

_Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Butler clasped his hands together on top of the desk and looked sadly into Hogan's brown eyes. He didn't know exactly where to begin._

"_General?"_

"_I just want you to know I will be taking medical leave. In my stead, you'll be reporting to General Manson until I return."_

_Hogan's eyes widened in surprise. "Sir?" he asked feeling his heart drop into his stomach._

"_I have lung cancer," Butler finally said._

_Hogan never thought anything could cause him to be at a loss for words but he was wrong, as Butler's bombshell caught him completely unawares. The younger man rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to regain his composure before he responded. After a few minutes, Hogan managed to gather himself._

"_What…what else did…the doctor have to say?" Hogan asked._

"_Well, it seems it was caught early and the doctors should be able to treat it with radiation, as I am not a candidate for surgery. I should make a complete recovery."(1) Butler could see the deep concern in his friend's eyes and smiled. "I'm going to be fine. I just thank God it was discovered before it spread to other organs. I just wanted you to know seeing as you're my friend and we've know each other for years."_

_Hogan could only nod. His brain was still trying to process the information it had been given. "When do you start your treatment?"_

"_The first one will be in three days. That's why I'm trying to get everything done before then."_

"_I understand, sir. Thank you for informing me." He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. "Will there be anything else, sir?"_

"_No, that's all." Butler got to his feet as did Hogan. As Hogan turned and walked away, he stopped when his hand gripped the doorknob and looked around; he noticed Butler was still standing._

"_General?" he said. "If there's anything, and I mean __**anything**__ you need or that I can do, just ask me. We need you here. This place can't survive without you and you've been a good friend to me since before Stalag 13. Good luck, sir."_

"_Thank you, Rob." Butler then watched Hogan exit his office._

Butler did fully recover. Because his illness had been discovered early, the radiation was successful. And as promised, and a bit thinner, Butler returned to the Pentagon in March, 1952.

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Butler leaned forward and with elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands. He only hoped he would live long enough to get justice for his late friend. In April of 1955, his cancer had returned, but because he was covertly investigating Hogan's death on his own, he ignored mostly everything else and had no time to waste on things that would take away from his investigation, and by the time he could no longer ignore the symptoms, the cancer had spread rapidly. The doctors told him because he had waited so long there was nothing they could do, and that he only had six months to live at the most; but they could make him comfortable during the time he had left. Butler refused as he had things to do and plans to make.

_Six months!_ He had six months to discover whether his friend's death was an accident, but with a deadline of six months he also knew he could not do it alone. He needed help. And Hogan's men were the ones who could find out so that he could die knowing that those who were guilty, paid for what they had done.

"_But do I have the right to put them in danger because I only have months to live?"_ Butler asked himself. After thinking about things, he decided that regardless of having only months, he would still have needed help to covertly conduct an investigation and as he didn't know who he could trust, the threats to his own life and safety, combined with his illness, Butler just couldn't do it alone anymore. So he set about getting Hogan's former team together and feeding them, bit by bit, the information he had secretly taken and giving it to them to keep them on the right track; but they would have to follow the clues he gave and investigate on their own. Butler suspected he probably wouldn't live past October, and although he tired easily and was losing the weight he had regained after his first bout with the disease, he prayed to God he would live long enough. But in case he didn't, the letter he had mailed to Peter Newkirk today would definitely give the men all the information they might need to solve the mystery.

* * *

Schmidt was mopping up a spill on the floor of the hallway in which Kinch's office was located, all the while allowing his eyes to dart to the Captain's office door. He was waiting for the Captain to leave for the day so he could do what he had been ordered to do. He had seen a General leaving Kinch's office but hadn't as yet seen Kinch. But being the patient man he was, he just took his time cleaning up the spill and keeping his eyes open. Finally, about thirty minutes later, the Captain's door opened and out walked Kinch carrying his briefcase. He made certain his office door was locked before walking briskly down the hall away from Schmidt who glared at the man's back with a sneer on his face. How he wished he had a weapon on him at this moment; he so badly wanted to put a bullet or stick a knife in the man's back. To him, Kinch was an extension of Hogan. And killing him would be like cutting off an appendage of the snake that had been Hogan.

But that wasn't on the agenda, at least not yet anyway. He had something else he needed to do. Once Kinch was out of sight, Schmidt waited another five minutes to be certain he wouldn't suddenly return. Once he was positive he wouldn't, Schmidt looked both ways making sure he was alone. He then leaned his mop up against the wall and hurried to Kinch's office and removing a lock pick, proceeded to unlock Kinch's office door with an ease that would make Newkirk proud, and just as quickly slipped into the office, allowing his eyes time to grow accustomed to the darkness of the room. He knew he had to work quickly since he had left his cleaning items in the hallway and somebody was bound to come along eventually and see them and start asking questions.

But if what he was told to do worked, Captain Kinchloe would no longer be a problem.

* * *

(1)Radical radiotherapy, initially used in the 1950s, was an attempt to use larger doses of radiation in patients with relatively early stages of lung cancer, but who were otherwise unfit for surgery.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This chapter contains some intense language with racial overtones.**

**Chapter 10**

Kinch sighed as he waited for the elevator to come so he could leave. He was eager to get home and find out what Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau had discovered. It was while he waited that he thought about what he had told Forbes. It troubled him that possibly somebody within the Pentagon itself could have played part in the murder of Hogan. He began to wonder if his late friend had a 'gut feeling' something was going to happen and that was the _real _motive behind ordering him to check out that experimental radio system for General Butler. Hogan had always had a gut feeling about these things and it had served them well in Stalag 13. Kinch grimaced. If he did, did Hogan have a suspicion he was about to die? How did the General feel as the plane spun out-of-control as it plummeted towards the earth below? Kinch secretly hoped that Hogan and the others were either unconscious or already dead so they wouldn't feel the rising panic or fear at the realization they were about to die. He withdrew from his thoughts as he heard the 'ding' of the elevator and the doors slid open. Kinch's eyes widened as he saw who was standing in the back of the elevator alone. Biting his tongue, Kinch stepped inside.

"Major," he said politely before moving to the opposite corner in the back of the elevator after pressing the button for the main floor.

Desmond didn't reply but glared at the Captain with disdain. Kinch for the most part, found the irritating man amusing knowing Desmond believed he could intimidate him. But what Kinch wouldn't give right now to grab the man by the throat and make him admit to having taken part in Hogan's death; but he had no proof of anything, at least not yet. Kinch glanced at the man whose eyes he had felt were on him the entire time. "Can I help you, Major?" he asked sweetly.

"You think you're something special because of your relationship with Hogan? As far as I'm concerned he was nothing but a nigger lover who deserved what he got," Desmond sneered.

"I would watch your mouth, Major," Kinch replied struggling to keep his temper under control. "General Hogan was one of the finest men I have ever known. And I resent how you're speaking about him."

Desmond's eyes widened. "You talking back to me, nigger?" he snickered. "Well, your master isn't here any more to protect his boy. Another thing, you might be a Captain, but as far as I'm concerned you're not fit to wear the same uniform I am. Your kind doesn't belong in the military with decent people. And if I have anything to say about it, you'll be tossed out of the military on your ass."

Kinch looked at the Major grimly. "Major, and I use the term with the respect that you really don't deserve, let's get one thing straight right now. First, I am not nor was I ever General Hogan's boy and that includes the time he was a Colonel. Second, I resent you slandering the late General by calling him names he doesn't deserve. And lastly, I am not going anywhere so get use to seeing me."

Desmond's face by now was a deep shade of crimson. "I wish you had been on that transport with your nigger loving CO. That way I would've been rid of both of you. But the fates saw fit to rid me of at least one of you, and it's just a matter of time before I'm rid of you too."

Kinch's eyes narrowed until they bore into the man standing opposite him. If anybody was the epitome of the Jim Crow laws, Kinch thought to himself, it was Major Desmond. Right now Kinch's entire body was shaking with more rage than he ever felt for Major Hochstetter, the Gestapo, or the Nazis in general. Having to listen to them calling Hogan all kinds of undeserving names was one thing; Kinch had been accustomed to that. It was even expected. Afterall, Hogan was the enemy. But to have one of their own refer to Hogan in such derogatory terms was almost more than Kinch could tolerate. Right now all he wanted to do was punch the man out cold, but then he would be playing right into Desmond's hands which is probably exactly what he wanted. But Kinch not only refused to play Desmond's game, but he had to keep what he suspected to himself for now. Fortunately, the doors of the elevator slid open at that exact moment.

"Have a good evening, Major," Kinch said calmly with a quick glance over his shoulder only to see Desmond's stare at his receding back. If Desmond could only see the smirk on the Captain's face as he exited the building.

* * *

Newkirk and Carter were playing another game of gin while LeBeau nervously paced, occasionally glancing impatiently at the telephone. "Ring!" he muttered staring at the phone and gesturing with his hands.

"Simmer down, Louie," Newkirk told him with his eyes focused on the cards in his hand. "She'll call when she has something to tell us."

"But why is it taking so long?" LeBeau said looking at his two friends. "I'm about to go crazy with worry."

Carter looked up at the little Frenchman. "Take it easy, LeBeau. You're gonna give yourself an ulcer. Marya will call when she finds out something. I mean, she never said when she would call just that she would." He threw out a card.

"And that's gin," Newkirk said with a grin as he laid his cards down. He chuckled as Carter threw his cards down on the table, annoyed.

"That's the third hand you've won, Newkirk," Carter said eyeing the smirking Englander. "I don't get it."

Newkirk reshuffled the cards. "That's because you were a rotten gin player in Stalag 13 and you're still one now, Andrew. Care for another game?"

But before Carter could respond the telephone rang causing everybody to look at it. LeBeau, being the closest, grabbed the receiver. "Hello," he said. The others noticed his face darken suddenly as he listened to the caller. "Batard! Qui est ceci! Vous ne m'effrayez pas!" he shouted into the receiver.(1)

The game forgotten, both Newkirk and Carter dropped their cards and raced to their friend; Newkirk yanked the phone out of LeBeau's hands and pressed it to his ear.

"Who the bloody hell is this?" the Englander shouted. But all he got was the dial tone. Newkirk slammed the receiver down then looked at LeBeau who was still trembling with anger despite Carter's best attempt to calm him. Newkirk put his hands on LeBeau's shaking shoulders. "Louie, calm down, mate. Look at me. Please. Take a couple of deep breaths, calm down, and tell us what happened to get you so upset."

Closing his eyes tightly the little Frenchman took a deep breath and exhaled just as deeply; then he repeated the process, and gradually began to feel the tension leave his body. After a couple of minutes, he nodded and indicated that he was all right. "I am fine now, mes ami," he told both of them.

"You sure, mate?" asked Newkirk, worried.

"Oui, I am sure."

Newkirk patted the Frenchman's shoulder. "Okay then. Now tell us what happened. Who called?"

"I do not know who it was, but it was definitely a man's voice," LeBeau began.

"And….?" Newkirk urged. "What did he say?"

"He said unless we wish to end up like le Colonel, we should cease our investigation immediately." He looked up at the faces of his friends who exchanged looks with each other.

"Did he say anything else?" asked Carter.

"Non. That was when Pierre took the phone from me." He looked directly at Newkirk. "What do you think it means?"

Newkirk pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. He saw both Carter and LeBeau looking at him, waiting. He inhaled and then exhaled through his nose.

"Well, mates, I have to say that phone call leaves no doubt that the Gov'nor was murdered, and somebody is getting' a mite nervous."

Just then the hotel room door opened and Kinch walked in. He noticed the looks on the faces of his friends as he closed the door. "What's going on?" he asked as he sat down his briefcase near the end table and began unbuttoning his coat.

"Kinch, are we glad you're here," Newkirk said, sounding relieved. "Let me ask you something. Did you see anybody followin' you today?"

Shrugging out of his coat, Kinch shrugged his shoulders. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

Newkirk repeated his story about the car following him earlier, the calls to MI6, what his MI6 contact said about Burkhalter and Hochstetter, the call to Marya, then LeBeau ended by telling him about the recent phone call.

Kinch sighed as he tossed his coat across a nearby chair, picked up his briefcase, and walked over to the couch and plopped down in exhaustion. He sat the briefcase down on the coffee table and ran both hands down his face.

"Tired, mate?" asked Newkirk as he and the others sat down beside him.

"Most definitely," Kinch answered. "I had a very long, but interesting day." He laid his briefcase down flat and opened it. Removing the CO2 canister, he handed it to the Englander who looked it.

"Okay, you got me. What is it?" Newkirk asked with a puzzled look.

"It's one of the CO2 bottles that was in the cargo hold of the Colonel's plane," Kinch explained. He watched as Newkirk handed the canister off to LeBeau. "They're there in case of a fire in the cargo hold."

Carter took the canister from LeBeau after he had finished looking at it. "So what?" LeBeau asked. "What's so important about a CO2 canister?"

Kinch, arms resting on thighs, rubbed his hands together. "They were empty. I spoke with the Air Traffic controller on duty that day who told me the pilots didn't report any fire."

"I still don't get it," said Carter handing the canister back to Kinch who put it back in his briefcase.

Newkirk rolled his eyes in frustration. "Blimey, Andrew. Don't you see, CO2 is only used if there is a fire on-board. There was no fire so there was no reason for the canisters to be empty."

"Then what happened to the contents of the canisters?" LeBeau asked, somewhat afraid of the answer.

"That's the question I have yet to answer," Kinch replied closing and locking his briefcase. "I mean, I have a theory but that's about all."

"What's your theory then, mate?"

Kinch then repeated what he had told General Forbes regarding his suspicions about the canisters as the possible explanation for the missing toxicology reports. When he finished, he looked at his friends. "There's also something else I haven't mentioned."

"You mean there's something else?" asked Carter.

"Yeah," Kinch admitted. "I think whoever killed the Colonel may have somebody planted inside the Pentagon. What was done was too involved for just one person to accomplish by himself. He had to have help."

Newkirk sadly shook his head. "Blimey. We got us a bleedin' conspiracy."

"A conspiracy?" echoed Carter, puzzled. "In the Pentagon? Is that possible?"

"Of course it is, Carter," Newkirk said with a hint of annoyance. "They're not exempt from 'em." He rolled his eyes again. Then, he looked at Kinch. "Any idea who in the Pentagon might be a suspect?"

Kinch sighed. "Yeah I have. My so called 'friend' Major Desmond."

"He'd be my choice from what you have told us of him," LeBeau chimed in eying Kinch.

"Mine too," Newkirk added looking at the faces of Carter and LeBeau. "He hates Kinch as much as he hated the Colonel. Wouldn't put it past 'im to have a part in it."

"Oui. He is a racist pig," LeBeau sneered. He knew the problems his friend had with the Major.

"And he's not very nice either," Carter added.

Kinch rubbed his chin. "Y'know, I just had a thought." He waited until he had the attention of the others. "I've a feeling if we can somehow prove Major Desmond had a hand in the Colonel's death, he might be willing to expose the others to save his own neck."

"But are you certain he's involved, mate?" asked Newkirk warily.

Kinch shrugged. "Am I positive? No. But he hated the Colonel for costing him a timely promotion and receiving an official reprimand. I can't think of a better candidate, or a better place to start, can you?"

* * *

General Forbes, having returned to his office, went immediately to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a snifter of Scotch and downed it in one gulp before sitting down behind his desk. He massaged his forehead as he thought about what Kinch had told him. It was, to him, incomprehensible that someone in the Pentagon, even someone the likes of Major Desmond, to have taken part in murdering a fellow soldier. And that was despite the kind of person Desmond was which Forbes knew to be a racist despite being a good soldier; but his dislike of blacks overshadowed everything that was good about him. But murder?

Forbes knew about Hogan's run-in with Desmond while Hogan was a Brigadier General over Kinch's promotion to Lieutenant. He had heard the talk from others who were privy to the exchange between the two men and of Hogan's filing a formal complaint against the man. In fact, Forbes had often wondered how the man had gotten into the Air Force must less remained. But his brain still found it difficult to believe that even someone as despicable as Desmond would resort to murder to get even with someone over being passed over for a promotion; but he had to trust Kinch's judgment. If Kinch believed it to be true, then it must be because the Captain did not accuse someone of something without reason. And of this he seemed positive. Leaning back in his chair and sighing wearily, Forbes recalled his own last conversation with Hogan.

_**(Flashback):**_

_Forbes studied Hogan's face as the General sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk. He could tell immediately his friend was visibly upset, and knew it had to be something serious because it took a lot to upset Hogan._

"_Talk to me, Rob," he said. "What's wrong?"_

_Hogan exhaled deeply and wrapped his arms around himself in his usual fashion everybody was familiar with. "I just came from Lt. Desmond's office and I must tell you, I came this close to decking the man." Hogan held his thumb and forefinger a quarter-of-an-inch apart. _

_Forbes sighed. "I've heard things about Desmond. None of them pleasant. What did he do to get you so riled up this early in the morning?"_

"_The man's a pompous ass," Hogan said tersely. "He gave me back talk when I approached him about promoting Kinch to Lieutenant. He spouted his racial disfavor over the request. But I dealt with it myself and he shouldn't be a problem."_

_Forbes leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands together, and laid them in his lap. "I assume you filed an official reprimand?"_

"_I did."_

_Forbes nodded. "He'll probably also be passed over for promotion to Captain."_

_Hogan smirked. "The man shouldn't even be in the Air Force."_

"_I'll agree with you on that. But unfortunately he's not done anything but shoot off his big mouth. Other than that he has a good record."_

_Hogan frowned. "Be that as it may, sir, I have a gut feeling he'll do something eventually that will put him in the stockade. I just hope nobody gets hurt or worse in the meanwhile." He chuckled. "I know he's not too thrilled with me or Kinch right now. Personally, I don't care how he feels about me, I can handle myself. But I'm concerned for Kinch. Desmond's made no secret of his dislike of him and I'm letting you know right here and now, Monty, I will do what I have to in order to protect my aide." _

_Forbes nodded. "Understood, Rob. We'll keep an eye on Desmond as well." He stood up as did Hogan. _

"_Thank you," Hogan replied before turning and exiting the General's office._

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Leaning forward and resting his head in his hands, Forbes thought of Hogan's last words. Had the Major been so angry at Hogan that he was willing to commit murder to get even with the man? If true, then Kinch was indeed in danger and he was worried that a man who didn't hesitate to murder a man who cost him a promotion would have no qualms about killing someone he felt was the reason for Hogan doing what he did. But Forbes also knew he had to trust Kinch and the others because the Captain had been right. They had faced greater dangers in Stalag 13 and succeeded. However, the difference there Forbes believed, was that in Stalag 13, they knew who their enemy was.

* * *

(1) "Batard! Qui est ceci? Vous ne m'effrayez pas!" means "Bastard! Who is this? You do not scare me!" Courtesy of SDL/Free Translation.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 11**

As the group slowly ate the dinner delivered by room service, they went over the newspaper clippings that LeBeau and Carter had obtained. Much to their dismay, the articles didn't reveal much more than they already knew so weren't of any use. About the only thing the clippings did contain that the men found interesting were the stories about Hogan; although much of the information they knew from their days at Stalag 13. But Hogan's career since he became a General they found a lot of the information interesting because the man they knew never divulged anything about himself even after the war.

"Blimey, the Colonel sure was a busy man since he was promoted," said Newkirk admiringly. "He was involved in so many things throughout his career."

"Oui," LeBeau agreed. "It makes me proud to have served under him when I did." He looked at Kinch noticing the solemn look on his friend's face. "What is wrong, mon ami?"

Kinch sighed. "It just saddens me to think how much more he could have accomplished before his career in the Air Force ended had he lived."

"I wonder why the Colonel never married," Carter said. "I mean, he and Tiger were pretty close while we were in Stalag 13. I thought for sure they would hook up once the war was over."

"I asked the Colonel about that one day," Kinch replied. "He and Tiger sort of drifted apart and broke up after the liberation. The last time the Colonel heard from her was when he found out she had married Dubois in France after Germany fell. He was very happy for both of them. But in his own way, I think the Colonel was sorry he and Tiger drifted apart because he was lonely for someone to share his life with. He never admitted it but I could tell. He kept himself busy with work for a long while I think just to forget how lonely he was. But in 1947, he did find someone and considered marriage. Her name was Cassandra Elkins; she was the receptionist for Major Bergstrom. They were very much in love and after a few months, he proposed to her. They had even set a date of May, 1948, for the wedding to take place."

"What happened?" asked Carter.

"She was killed in a house fire a month before their wedding. After that, the Colonel just sort of shut himself off from any serious involvement with women. Oh, he dated off and on, but never got serious about any woman. It was like a part of him died when she did."

"Blimey," Newkirk uttered. "I never knew any of this. I mean, I knew about Tiger, but I just thought the Gov'nor was a confirmed bachelor."

"Le Colonel pauvre. Mon coeur casse pour lui," said LeBeau. "He did not tell me any of this in his last letter to me. I mean, I knew he had met Cassandra and planned to ask her to marry him, but had no idea she had died. I had wondered why he did not mention her in his letter." (1)

"Gosh," added Carter. "Sounds like he didn't want us to know how much he was hurting."

"Yeah," Newkirk said hanging his head. "The Gov'nor was always like that. Always shielding us when he was hurting emotionally instead of letting us help him through it."

Kinch shrugged his shoulders. "Although, for a while I thought maybe things might be changing when he met General Edgar Cranston's daughter. But that didn't work out and the Colonel broke up with her in the end."

Newkirk's eyebrows arched. "What? The Gov'nor turned down a bird? What happened with that?"

_**(Flashback):**_

_It was August, 1949. The retirement party for Air Force Chief-of-Staff Randolph Marston was in full swing by the time Hogan had arrived alone. He had not dated anyone since the death of his fiancée, and wasn't looking to meet anybody. All he really wanted to do was offer his congratulations to the retiring Marston, have one or two drinks and leave. He really didn't intend or want to spend a lot of time here as he just didn't feel comfortable. Finding Marston, Hogan approached the man and offered his congratulations. But before he could leave, Marston grabbed his arm and told him there was somebody he wanted him to meet who was a close friend of his. He then introduced Hogan to General Edgar Cranston and his daughter Emily who had accompanied her father to the party. Hogan forced a smile to his face as he shook hands with the General and kissed Emily's hand in a gentlemanly manner. As he did so he caught the young woman eying him with much interest and maintained his charming smile._

_Never one to miss anything, Cranston caught his daughter's obvious interest in Hogan and decided to play matchmaker between his youngest daughter and the brash officer. When his daughter later confirmed his suspicions that she had a romantic interest Hogan whom he had heard would be first in line to be promoted to Major General, Cranston was all for it. He saw great potential in Hogan as well as good husband material for his daughter. He was aware Hogan still grieved over his late fiancée who died over a year ago, and although feeling badly over the woman's death, his daughter's happiness was all that mattered to him. So Cranston did everything he could to 'encourage' his daughter's relationship with Hogan who was considered one of the Air Force's most eligible bachelors. _

_Hogan was attracted to the beautiful blond-haired, blue-eyed woman, and asked her out. They continued seeing each other until one day Hogan was summoned to General Cranston's office. Whatever the General wanted to see him about, Hogan wasn't worried, although he had a suspicion why the elder man wanted to see him. His gut was telling him it had something to do with his involvement with Emily as the last two weeks of their relationship which had become sexual after the first date, she had sort of been 'pushing' him to take their relationship to the next level. But Hogan had made it clear several times he wasn't ready to settle down if ever. The sex between them was fantastic, and her companionship good, but he didn't want more than that right now. A date when he needed both companionship and someone to talk to, and an occasional one-night stand when he needed that physical release. These two things were enough for him at the moment, but he suspected she had gone running to her father and complained and that was the reason he had been summoned. And he knew that General Cranston didn't like not getting what or who he wanted. Knocking on the General's door, Hogan walked into the office with his cap tucked under his arm. "You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked._

_Cranston stood up behind his desk. "Sit down, Rob. I'd like to talk to you about something."_

"_Yes, sir." Hogan sat down in one of the chairs facing the General's desk with his cap in his lap. Cranston sat back down._

"_Now, Rob," Cranston began clasping his hands on top of his desk. "I wanted you here because you have been seeing my daughter for awhile, and I was wondering what your intentions were towards her?" Hogan went on to explain how he felt and that marriage just wasn't in his immediate future. It was then Hogan noticed an odd expression come over the General's face. Apparently, the General didn't like his answer._

"_I can see that you go far in this man's Air Force," Cranston announced. "After all, my daughter should be married to a man with potential. I can make things happen for you and quickly. She has intimated to me that she wants a commitment from you as to your intentions."_

_It was then Hogan knew what he suspected was true. Emily Cranston had run to her father hoping he would 'persuade' Hogan to commit to her with a marriage proposal, and that the General was trying to 'buy' him. Hogan sighed wearily and quickly reached a decision. He just couldn't shake the ghost of Cassandra Elkins._

"_General, and I say this with all due respect, I am not interested in marrying anybody at this time although Emily is a lovely woman. But I will not be bought or pressured into marriage by you or anybody else."_

"Whoa," said Newkirk with an amused grin. "I bet ole Cranston didn't like that none."

Kinch smirked. "Not by a long shot. But there's more to the story."

_**(Resuming Flashback):**_

_Cranston could only stare at the younger man in amazement. "Are you telling me you have no intention of asking for my daughter's hand?"_

"_As I said, she's a lovely woman, but I just don't want to be married now. I prefer being single."_

"_I'm sure you know enough about me to know I'm use to getting who or what I want. And I also want my daughter to be happy. And Emily is my baby and whatever she wants I want her to have. And she wants you."_

_Hogan smiled faintly. "I'm very flattered, sir, but my answer remains the same. In fact, given the circumstances, I think it would be better for Emily and I to stop seeing each other. I can't give her what she wants."_

"_You're making a big mistake," Cranston warned, his face darkening._

"_Begging the General's pardon," said Hogan calmly. "But I don't believe so. So, unless there is something else the General wishes to discuss…." He started to get up._

"_I haven't dismissed you yet!" Cranston raised his voice causing Hogan to sit back down with arched eyebrows. "I suggest you reconsider, because I can make things very difficult for you."_

_Hogan paused for a moment. Then, he calmly checked his watch, got to his feet and saluted. "If there's nothing else, sir, I have an appointment with General Forbes in fifteen minutes." He really needed to get out of this office. How he wished Cassandra was still alive._

_Cranston glared at the younger man. "Only one last thing. I know you have a date with Emily tonight but I suggest you cancel. Obviously you're not the man I thought you were. Just think about what I said. We'll talk again."_

Hogan turned and walked out of the General's office somewhat relieved to be out of there.

_**(End of Flashback)**_

"So what happened?" asked LeBeau curiously. "Did the General cause problems for le Colonel?"

Kinch shook his head. "Since Hogan was only a Major General, and Cranston was a full General, he could've made trouble for the Colonel. But the Colonel made General Forbes aware of Cranston's threats, and before Cranston knew what happened, he was uh, 'persuaded' to retire. Apparently General Forbes had some powerful connections of his own."

"Wow," Carter stated with a laugh. "I bet the Colonel was glad when that happened."

"Not really," Kinch replied. "He was sorry everything went down the way it did. But Cranston was capable of ruining the Colonel's career with his connections, and General Forbes wasn't going to allow that because of something so minor as the Colonel not wanting to marry Cranston's daughter."

"Do you think this General Cranston is capable of seeking revenge against the Colonel by killing him?" asked LeBeau grimly.

"No," Kinch said. "Cranston passed away a year ago and his youngest daughter is happily married to a high-ranking General somewhere."

"Blimey," said Newkirk. He took a sip of tea just as the phone rang. Since Carter was the closest, he jumped up and answered it; after a few seconds, he held the receiver out towards Newkirk.

"It's your contact in MI6," was all Carter said.

Hurriedly wiping his mouth with his napkin, the Englander jumped up and took the receiver from his friend. "What news do you have for me?" Newkirk listened intently occasionally responding to what he was being told. After a few minutes, he sighed. "Thanks, mate. Call me back when you know more. Bye." He hung up and returned to the table where the others sat eagerly waiting. Newkirk took a sip of tea.

"Well? What did he say?" asked LeBeau. "What did he find out?"

Newkirk cleared his throat. "That was Robin. He told me he heard from his contact in MI5 and that we can scratch Klink off our list of possibilities. Seems our former Kommandant is alive and well and living in Palm Springs working as a bookkeeper for some company. From what he could find out, Klink doesn't bear any grudges against the Gov'nor and that his earlier anger against him was only regarding what he was shown about the operation. Robin believes after awhile ole Klink calmed down and got on with his life." He chuckled. "Seems the Iron Eagle even got himself engaged to be married to a bird he met who works in the same company."(2)

The others chuckled over the news of Klink's engagement.

"Did he have any other news to report?" asked Kinch.

"Yeah, he did. Something he got from his contact in MI5 that although we didn't ask him to, he thought we'd want to know anyway." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, are you going to keep the information to yourself?" asked an impatient Frenchman.

"No, mate. I just have to think about how to say it." He exhaled through his nose. "Robin told me that his contact in MI5 reported a body was stumbled upon during an excavation by some workers who were digging at a construction site. This took place in Milwaukee. The body was badly decomposed and was nothing but bones. No clothing at all or identification on 'im. In fact, what took so long was locating the man's dentist so dental records could be compared before a positive identification could be made."

"So who was it?" asked Carter. "And what does it have to do with this?"

"The body was identified as being that of Robert J. Morrison aka Major Teppel during his time deep undercover in the Abwehr during the war." The others were stunned into silence.(3)

"How did he die?" asked Kinch with narrowed eyes. He had liked the man and respected the great risk he had been taking by posing as a Major in German Intelligence.

"According to what I was told, he was tortured before being shot point blank in the head." Newkirk shook his head sadly. "His legs and arms were broken and one knee showed signs of having been broken and then healing."

"Mon Dieu. Do they know who did it?" asked LeBeau fondly remembering the German- American they worked with once while in Stalag 13.

"Yeah, they do," Newkirk said looking at his friends. "They found a sterling silver bracelet hidden underneath the body. They think whoever either killed him or buried him may have lost it while burying him. There was a name engraved on the back of the bracelet, and according to Robin, this person fell off the radar after the war ended and he got out of a British prison camp. This bloke made a habit of mouthing off about the Gov'nor and how he'd make him pay after the war. But after awhile, the bloody bastard stopped mouthing off and became a model prisoner up till the time he got out. It was then he disappeared."

"You said there was a name engraved on the back, mon ami. Did they say who it was?"

"The name on the back was Wilhelm Schmidt."

The others were silent for awhile as they processed this information.

"Schmidt. Schmidt," said Kinch as his eyebrows knitted. "That name sounds familiar to me for some reason."

"It should," Newkirk continued. "He was the bloody bastard who pretended to be Captain James Crandall and was a ruddy plant by Burkhalter when we set up Burkhalter's aide."

"Sacre Chat!" LeBeau exclaimed. "And Robin has no idea where he is?"

"It's like he disappeared off the face of the ruddy earth," the Englander answered solemnly. "But if memory serves, he was German Intelligence. I bet anything he might be workin' in the same capacity if he's one of the ones responsible for murderin' the Colonel. But it's been several years and there's no current photo of him."

"But why would he kill Morrison?" asked Carter, puzzled. "I mean, what was the reason behind it?"

Newkirk shrugged. "Not sure. Robin said Schmidt could have found out about Morrison's undercover work in the Abwehr, or maybe Morrison found out something he shouldn't have and became a problem. He's gonna check and get back to me after he sees what Morrison's been up to since his undercover work ended."

Kinch sighed. "So we consider Schmidt a definite possibility," he said. "Yet he doesn't strike me as the type capable of planning the Colonel's death. That means someone is over him giving the orders and planned everything."

"Then all we have to do is find who's in charge," Carter chimed in.

"That could be easier said than done," LeBeau told him. "We're not even certain this Schmidt is involved." He then studied each of his friends. "We must be careful, mes amis. We are treading on dangerous ground and that phone call earlier proved that. I suspect whoever was responsible will stop at nothing to keep us from proving the Colonel's death was no accident."

* * *

(1)"Le Colonel pauvre. Mon coeur casse pour lui" means "The poor Colonel. My heart breaks for him." Courtesy of SDL/Free Translation.

(2)GUESS WHO CAME TO DINNER, Season 4.

(3)Major Teppel aka Robert Morrison was from BAD DAY IN BERLIN, Season 4.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12**

Samuel Castleman as he was now known stretched his arms to work out the kinks from having sat in his vehicle for endless hours watching the house of retired General Alvin Butler. If it had been up to him he would have just gotten rid of the man and have done with it. But those were not Bruno's orders; the orders were to follow the man wherever he went, and to report whoever paid him a visit. And tailing that damn Englander Newkirk and losing him didn't do much for his mood either. He had practically _begged_ Bruno on the phone after losing sight of Newkirk to be allowed to kill him the next time he spotted him, but was told in no uncertain terms the answer was 'no.' Too risky and would attract unwanted attention. Bruno constantly reminded him that his one problem was he was impatient, sometimes too impatient, and to quote that old adage: _'good things happen to those who wait.' _But later if it should become necessary, Bruno had promised he would be given permission. Castleman shrugged knowing he would have to be content with that. Still, he had to smirk when he thought of Hogan's demise in the plane crash. _Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy, _he thought to himself. _Hogan, if I'd had my way I would have put a bullet in your head instead, but this is just as good. Afterall, dead is dead._ Castleman reflected back to an incident at Stalag 13 when he was known under his real name, Jack Williams.

_**(Flashback):**_

_He remembered when it was brought into Stalag 13 by a Luftwaffe Captain under orders to deliver the S5 gun, a prototype of a new 88 millimeter field gun, to France where it was to be put into production for the Germans. Meanwhile, the Captain's car needed a new fuel pump and not intending to, was forced to stop at the POW camp and leave the weapon there while he went to Dusseldorf to have the new fuel pump made. Needless to say, once the new weapon had been mass-produced, it would spell disaster for the Allies. Hogan's orders from London were to destroy the gun while it was in Stalag 13. _

_Williams despised Hogan. He thought the officer arrogant, smug, and an all-around pain-in-the-ass. He had no idea how in the world the other prisoners could possibly like, much less respect the American. _

_Also, Williams went out of his way accusing Hogan of betraying him to Carter, by telling him Hogan had tipped off the guards and then leaving him to take the blame with the guards locking him up. He could tell that Carter didn't believe him by the way he defended Hogan. Williams then swore to himself if it was the last thing he ever did, he would pay Hogan back for everything. He thought he had found the perfect opportunity when he sought to reveal Hogan's entire operation to Colonel Klink in exchange for his freedom and money. But unknown to him, Hogan managed to avoid the firing squad by having members of the underground pose as a Luftwaffe Major along with his secretary in place of Klink who had to leave camp for what reason he didn't know. Newkirk and LeBeau then blew the door of the cooler while Carter set the explosives that destroyed the gun. Williams ground his teeth as he recalled Newkirk and LeBeau tying his hands tightly behind his back, and as the gun in the compound burned and the sirens blared, was dragged inside the barracks where an irate Robert Hogan, his face a deep crimson and brown eyes blazing, slammed the door and confronted the man he now considered a traitor._

"_Welcome home, __**friend**__," Hogan hissed. Williams looked into Hogan's eyes but saw no compassion there. _

"_Hogan, give me a break," he begged._

"_You'll get what you deserve," Hogan continued, his anger growing every minute. "A plane to fly out of here as soon as the heat dies down. They're gonna try you in England, and you better __**pray**__ none of those judges have ever been POWs." Hogan's eyes shifted to his men. "Put 'im in the tunnel," he said with a final glare at Williams before turning away least he lose control and do something he knew he'd regret, ignoring the return stare from the man.(1)_

Williams face darkened as he recalled being sent back to London branded a traitor, tried by the US military legal system, and found guilty. He was sentenced to spend the remainder of the war in a military prison. But he was lucky in that was where he met Bruno and became part of the conspiracy.

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Williams pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew Hogan was to blame for his problems, he and Newkirk both. He had sort of liked Carter; he believed the young man to be gullible and easily manipulated which made it easy to get him to do things when they were in Stalag 13. The Frenchman LeBeau he had no opinion of so dismissed him. But Newkirk and Hogan, double trouble. He thought it was odd when Bruno had approached him in the prison camp, especially since he was an Americanwho had been in Stalag 13 as a prisoner, and was at first leery. But he soon learned the man had known that although he was an American who had been in Stalag 13, he might be useful as he was feeling out and recruiting people who wanted retribution against the American officer and were willing to not go off on their own due to impatience on their part. Williams curiosity was peaked and he asked to hear more.

Bruno had continued explaining his plan for Hogan and he could see the corners of the American's mouth curl upwards as he listened, and knew what a twist of fate it would be to have one of Hogan's own kind taking part in his demise. Then Williams asked about Newkirk and could the Englander's demise be included with Hogan's. Bruno gave him a wary look and explained that Hogan was their main objective but that any member of his staff would merely be 'collateral damage.' However, under no circumstances were any of his staff to be gone after independently without the permission of the man in charge. When the American asked who that was, Bruno would only say the name of that person was none of his business but admitted he was a member of the Luftwaffe. All he wanted to know was could Williams control his temper, follow orders, and forget about his vendetta against the Englander unless otherwise ordered to do so. Williams didn't even have to think about it. Smirking, he held out his hand and shook Bruno's firmly, stating that he would love to wipe the smug, arrogant look off of Hogan's face and to count him in. Suddenly something caught Williams attention across the street.

* * *

Despite lying on his back in bed with hands tucked behind his head, LeBeau couldn't fall asleep. He was still thinking about the phone call earlier in the evening wishing he could identify the caller; but he just didn't have any idea who it was. Yet, he was beginning to feel that he should know who the voice belonged to. He knew it was a weird feeling to have, but he still couldn't shake it.

Glancing over to one side, he noticed Kinch was apparently sound asleep and he didn't want to wake him. Exhaling deeply, the Frenchman turned onto his side facing Kinch and watched him sleeping. The only illumination in the room was a pale shaft of moonlight coming through the window. LeBeau found himself wiping at something in his eye and felt moisture on his fingertips.

"Can't sleep?" a voice said gently.

"I'm sorry, mon ami," LeBeau replied softly. "I hope I did not awaken you?"

"You were crying, Louie," Kinch said. "I heard your muffled sobs despite you trying to keep them quiet. Talk to me."

"I cannot, Kinch. It hurts whenever I talk about it."

"It'll hurt more if you don't. Believe me, I know," Kinch replied. "At first, I had a lot of trouble talking about the Colonel's death with anybody. If I did it made his death more real, whereas if I didn't speak about it then he really wasn't dead. It wasn't until I couldn't take the stress of burying my feeling anymore that forced me to open up to General Forbes. It helped to talk about my feelings. "

"I don't know if I can," LeBeau said sliding up into a sitting position in bed. Reaching over, he turned on the lamp on his night stand. He watched Kinch toss aside his covers and toss his legs over the edge of the bed resting his feet on the floor, arms resting on his bare thighs, hands clasped.

"I'm a good listener," Kinch said with a slight smile.

LeBeau exhaled deeply and looked down at his hands which were in his lap. He picked at his fingers as he recalled that day.

_**(Flashback):**_

_LeBeau stood back proudly as he looked around, his eyes twinkling happily and his chest ready to burst with pride. He couldn't believe in two weeks his restaurant would be ready to open to the public. All the months of hard work he and his family had put into renovating the place he had purchased with his back pay was nearly complete. Just two more weeks and the fruits of their labor would be realized. He found himself actually becoming impatient regarding the opening of Le Liberte. The answers to all the announcements he had sent out to special friends and relatives were slowly coming in for which he was thrilled; but four announcements were still unanswered. And they were the ones sent to Carter, Newkirk, Kinch and Colonel Hogan. LeBeau wanted them to be his special guests on opening night of his restaurant and as it was now two weeks away without hearing from them, he was getting nervous._

_As he had been working most of the day cleaning the windows in the doors of the main dining room, LeBeau had decided to take a much needed break. Tossing his cleaning rags on a nearby table he decided to step outside into the cool afternoon air and sit outside on one of the two large concrete flower pots which held live plants. He had been sitting on the edge of one of them for only five minutes when he spotted the man everybody knew as Monsieur Francoise, the neighborhood's mail carrier. The man was a familiar sight in the neighborhood and was always on time. He smiled when he saw LeBeau sitting outside._

"_Bonjour, Monsieur LeBeau," he said._

"_Bonjour, Monsieur Francoise," LeBeau said with a smile on his face. "Avenz-vous n'importe quoi pour moi aujourd 'hui?"_

_The mail carrier held up four envelopes in his hand. "Oui. Quatre lettres. Trois des Etat-Unis."_

"_J'ai attendu ces. Ils sont de mes chers amis de la guerre," LeBeau said excitedly taking the envelopes from Francoise. The mail carrier smiled at the excitement in the smaller man._

"_J'espere que c'est de bonnes nouvelles alors." The older man looked at the outside of the building for a long moment and smiled. "Comment le nouveau restaurant vient-il a cote?"_

_LeBeau grinned. "Amende. J'ouvrirai dans deux semaines. J'espere que vous et votre dame viendra comme mes invites?"_

"_Nouv essaierons. Au revoir."(2)_

"_Au revoir. And merci." LeBeau watched the older man continue on his way before turning his attention to the envelopes in his hand; he scanned through them: Newkirk, Carter, Kinch, and Hogan. He noticed the one from Hogan was slightly thicker than the others. Tucking Hogan's in his shirt pocket for the moment, LeBeau quickly opened the ones from Carter and Newkirk both of which didn't say much more than they would be delighted to come to France for the grand opening of LeBeau's restaurant. Next, he opened Kinch's and smiled when he read that Kinch was now a Captain in the Air Force and that he also would be delighted to come and was certain that he could get the time off to come. LeBeau had to chuckle at that as he knew his friend was Hogan's aide. Lastly, he reached in his pocket, removed the envelope from Hogan and opened it._

'_**Dear Louie….**_

_**It still sounds strange calling you Louie, but I guess not any stranger than you now addressing me as Lieutenant General and Kinch as Captain. Both of us have just been promoted. But I must tell you that as happy as I am by my promotion, I am thrilled by Kinch making Captain. I am so proud of and happy for him. If anybody deserves a promotion it's Kinch. I plan to see he goes as far as he can in this man's Air Force even though with his qualifications, he really doesn't need much help from me. In fact, General Forbes, one of my superiors, is already trying to lure Kinch away from me and make him his senior aide, but as long as I'm alive I'm not letting him go unless it's so he can get a command of his own which he deserves.**_

_**As to your invitation to come to your grand opening, I would be proud to attend. I am always glad to see the men under my former command do well in their private lives. I'm very happy for you. If there's anything you need personally or regarding your new venture, don't hesitate to contact me. Just keep in mind not to get so wrapped up in your new business that you forget to have a happy personal life as well. Find somebody to share your joy with like Peter and Andrew have. As for myself, I guess I'm meant to be married to the Air Force."**_

_LeBeau paused from his reading for a moment. Why hadn't the Colonel included himself and Cassandra in that next to last line? Hadn't he previously told him in a phone call he was going to propose to Cassandra Elkins? Had something gone wrong? LeBeau knew about Tiger having married Dubois and although he was happy for her, he was somewhat disappointed that she and Hogan hadn't gotten together. In fact, the last time he had spoken to Tiger on the phone to congratulate her and Dubois, he asked her why she didn't go after the Colonel despite them drifting apart after the liberation. Tiger could only say she had no real answer for him; and perhaps they just weren't meant to be. LeBeau couldn't reply to that and let it drop. Lowering his eyes, he resumed reading Hogan's letter._

'_**Well, I'd better close this letter now because in fifteen minutes I have a staff meeting to attend. That's the story of my life; meetings, meetings, meetings. I often wonder why I even have an office sometimes. Good luck again with your restaurant, and expect Kinch and me to be there for the grand opening.**_

_**Your friend **_

_**Robert Hogan'**_

_Two weeks later, the grand opening of Le Liberte was a huge success. Hogan and Kinch, both in their dress uniforms were there, as were Carter and Newkirk. A good time was had by all. But by evening's end after all the other customers had departed and it was just the five of them, LeBeau had the best bottle of champagne brought to the table by his mai'tre d and champagne poured in each glass, LeBeau then raised his glass to make a toast; the others raised theirs as well._

"_Here is to the four best friends a man could ever have, and to the best commanding officer we all had the good fortune to serve with and under. May there only be good fortune and bright skies for each of you always and with whatever each of you chooses to do. Aux bons amis!" LeBeau glanced over quickly and caught Carter's puzzled expression. "To good friends, Andre."_

"_Oh, okay," Carter said; Newkirk just rolled his eyes. The five men clinked their glasses together after LeBeau's toast. It was then that LeBeau noticed a sadness in Hogan's eyes, but from experience, knew the Colonel would talk only when and if he wanted and not before._

The five friends celebrated their reunion late into the night before bidding goodbye to each other with the promise to get together again soon. Little did any of them realize the next time they got together it would be to say goodbye to one of their own.

_**(End of Flashback)**_

* * *

"I remember that night," Kinch said with a smile. "It was a wonderful night for you and for us."

"I know, Kinch. But it hurts to think how two years later I went from the most wonderful day of my life to the most painful day of my life."

_**(Flashback):**_

_March 13, 1954 started out as a bright, although chilly, day. LeBeau was busy in his restaurant preparing for the customers who would be coming that evening. He was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. He briskly walked over to the table where the phone was and picking up the receiver, pressed it to his ear._

"_Le Liberte. Louis LeBeau speaking." _

"_LeBeau, it…it's Kinch." The Frenchman immediately noticed his friend's voice sounded strained._

"_Mon ami! It is so good to hear from you. How are you? Are you in Paris by chance?"_

_There was a pause. "No. I'm fine. Louie….oh God."_

_LeBeau now knew something was seriously wrong. "What is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."_

"_It's the Colonel," Kinch began; the sound of muffled sobs could be heard. "He's dead."_

_LeBeau squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the news sank in. Not the Colonel. Not Hogan. Has to be a mistake. Hogan was indestructible. "Wha…what…happened?" he asked shakily._

"_Plane crash. He was flying to Maryland and…and…the plan was struck by lightning…crashed and burned."_

"_Mon Dieu!" LeBeau whispered in a strangled voice. "Please tell me it is not true." The tears flowed unashamedly. LeBeau fell against the wall and then slowly slid down it until he sat on the floor in shock. "Please tell me it's a mistake." Kinch's silence told LeBeau that it was no mistake. Robert Hogan was dead._

The Frenchman looked up at his friend as the tears began to roll down his cheeks.

_**(End of Flashback)**_

"That was the worst day of my life," LeBeau stammered in an emotion-filled voice. He buried his face in his hands and cried. He didn't stop when the bed dipped down beside him and a pair of strong arms wrapped around his small shoulders and pulled him close. "I couldn't allow myself to feel much less think about it. It hurt too much. That way the Colonel wasn't dead. I couldn't allow him to be dead. I kept him alive in my mind so I wouldn't hurt."

"It's okay, Louie," Kinch replied softly as he let the Frenchman bury his face in his tee-shirt and cry. "I just wish one of us had been there with you when you found out. I…I'm sorry I had to tell you over the phone like that. If I had known how difficult a time you were having handling the Colonel's death, I would have spoken with General Forbes, taken leave, and flown to France to help. So would Newkirk and Carter."

"I didn't want anybody to know how much I hurt," LeBeau sobbed. "Like the Colonel didn't want people to worry about him, I did not want any of you to worry about me."

Kinch gently leaned back so he could look the little Frenchman directly in his red, wet eyes. "Louie, the Colonel's death was a huge shock to all of us. I know for a fact that Peter and Andrew had a hard time when I told them the news. Hell, I had a horrible time only because I worked with the Colonel on a daily basis. I tried calling you and the others every other day to see how all of you were doing and if there was anything I could do to make things easier. I was able to reach Carter and Newkirk and we had long talks about things. But every time I called you, I was always told you couldn't come to the phone or you were out at the moment. I left several messages hoping you'd call me back but you never did. I was so worried about you. I even asked Newkirk and Carter if they had spoken with you, but they hadn't heard from you either and were just as worried. I even considered taking leave and flying there regardless, finding you, and making you talk to me."

LeBeau wiped his eyes. "I am sorry. I did not mean to worry or frighten anybody." He hung his head.

Kinch put his hands on the Frenchman's shoulders. "I know you didn't. But we're a family, Louie. The Colonel's family. And we lost the head of our family and concerned we were about to lose one of the family members as well. There's no weakness in allowing others to know you're in pain. When a member of a family hurts, the others are there to help anyway they can. Keep that in mind you stubborn Frenchman."

LeBeau looked up and smiled . "Merci, for everything. I guess I was doing what the Colonel always did when he was hurting. I'm sorry."

Kinch smiled kindly. "No apology necessary. Feel better now?"

"Oui. Much more than before. Merci again."

Kinch patted LeBeau on his back and getting up, started back to his own bed. But it was LeBeau's voice that made him pause and look back.

"Do you think we will find out who killed the Colonel and get justice for him?_"_

"Yeah, I do. We just have to be smart as to how we go about it. So far we have one advantage in this."

"What is that, mon ami?"

"They don't know the things we've been able to uncover so far. That's why I asked General Forbes to not have a new investigation opened and leave it to us. This way, hopefully we can discover who's responsible without tipping them off." He sat down on his bed before lying down again. "Let's get some sleep. We have a lot to do in the morning. Goodnight, Louie."

"Goodnight, mon ami." He saw Kinch grin as he reached out and turned off the light and slid down under the covers "You are a good friend." This time, LeBeau found sleep came easy.

* * *

(1) This scene, although a bit expanded, is from ONE IN EVERY CROWD, Season 3.

(2)"Good afternoon, Mr. LeBeau."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Francoise. Do you have anything for me today?"

"Yes. Four letters. Three of them from the United States."

"I have been waiting for these. They are from my dear friends from the war."

"I hope it is good news then."

"How is the new restaurant coming along?"

"Fine. I will open in two weeks. I hope you and your missus will come as my guests?"

"We will try. Goodbye."


	14. Chapter 14

******A/N: Chapters 2-13 were deleted and then re-posted because the original chapters were messed up. The correct chapters are now posted.******

**Chapter 13**

The following morning Schmidt had just finished his breakfast when his doorbell rang. Putting down his newspaper, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and after getting up, walked to the door and opened it. He smiled when he saw who was standing there with a lazy grin on his face.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" asked the visitor.

"Of course. Come in, Herr Decker. Have some coffee," Schmidt replied closing the door behind his friend after he came in.

"Not Herr Decker. We've known each other too long for such formalities. To you I am Bruno," Bruno said calmly as he sat down on the sofa and crossing his legs, clasped his hands around his legs. "I wanted to ask you how things went yesterday?"(1)

Schmidt sat down in a nearby chair and crossed his legs at his ankles. "It went fine. You should be able to hear whoever he speaks with on the phone and whoever comes into the office with no problem."

"Excellent," Bruno replied, quite pleased. Then, a concerned look appeared on his face. "Captain Kinchloe is possibly becoming a problem. We may have to do something about him."

Schmidt pyramided his fingertips and pursed his lips. "Why not just kill him now and have done with it, Bruno?" He paused.

"In answer to your question about the Captain, it is because he works in the Pentagon. To kill him now would only arouse suspicions. If it's decided he should die it doesn't necessarily have to be done in a way that will look like an accident. You are as impatient to kill the good Captain as Herr Williams is the Englander."

"But Sergeant Bremer's death was made to look like an accident. The good Captain's accident could be the same way."

Bruno shook his head. "Bremer's death was easy. He was known to drink a lot, so having him killed in a car crash when drunk was not difficult. But Captain Kinchloe does not drink much so it would have to be done differently. However, for now he will be left alone unless it becomes necessary. And if it does, we can do away with the Captain, and our good friend, Major Desmond, will get the blame considering how he feels about him."

"The Captain could always disappear like Morrison," Schmidt added. "Nobody's ever found where he's buried and they never will. It was easy for me to kill him before I arrived here."

Decker smirked. "Morrison had it coming. He was a traitor to the Fatherland when he posed as Major Teppel in the Abwehr. The bastard stumbled across our plot against Hogan and was about to reveal everything. If that had happened, it would have ruined all our plans. He had to be silenced." He saw Schmidt nod in agreement. "I always wondered something. Did he ever reveal anything to you before he died? You never said very much about his interrogation."

Schmidt shook his head. "I tortured him for days including hearing him scream over and over as I broke his kneecap, both arms and both legs; he refused to divulge anything despite the agony he was in. Seeing as he would not talk, I put him out of his misery by putting a bullet in his brain." He chuckled. "If need be, I would not hesitate to put a bullet in Captain Kinchloe's head as well. Just say the word, Bruno, and it shall be done."

Decker smiled. "Just be patient, my friend. Everything will soon be over and then we can all leave the United States and return to the Fatherland without detection and without any of Hogan's men having been able to prove anything. All they will have are suspicions and no proof. But, any killing of one of Hogan's men must be authorized by him, not me. Afterall, he is the one who organized this conspiracy in the first place and gives the orders. To disobey them in anyway, or to strike out on one's own, means instant death to that person. Remember that."

Schmidt could only shrug his shoulders. "You don't have to worry about me with that."

* * *

Doctor Brian Carlyle was enjoying being retired and was now what could be called a 'man of leisure' spending much of his time in his spacious home in Arlington, Virginia. The time he had spent at Walter Reed had been one of the most enjoyable of his long career, and when he retired early in early 1954, after a long and illustrious career working with some of the most brilliant men to cross his path; one of them being the man who took over his job and made it possible for him to retire, Doctor Bruce Wolper. Carlyle smiled as he recalled the day Wolper had officially taken over for him at his urging. He had thoroughly enjoyed training Wolper and felt confident leaving the ME's Department in his capable hands. Now that he was retired, he was now doing consulting and occasionally writing and submitting articles for publication such as he was doing at the moment; to be able to pass on his years of knowledge to others. With an exhausted sigh, he put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, looking at the half dozen or so handwritten pages on the desk in front of him.

He had been working on an article on the effects and treatment of cancer up to the present time, and needed his reference book which he had so carefully packed away when he left Walter Reed and had since stuck in his bookcase with his other medical journals and books. Sighing wearily, Carlyle pushed himself up from his seat and trudged into the kitchen first and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and took a sip. Then, he walked back into the study he had just been in and approached the bookcase where he kept only his medical books, journals and medical reference books. Opening the door of the first bookcase, he ran his fingers over the top row of books as he sought what he was looking for; not finding it, he ran his fingers over the second row as well and then the third and final row before stopping midway of the books. He smiled as he grabbed the thick medical reference book he had been searching for and pulled it out. Walking back to his desk, he then sat his coffee cup down and began thumbing through the book when something immediately caught his attention.

* * *

Kinch was putting on his uniform jacket when LeBeau walked into the living room with two cups of coffee and handed one to Kinch who took it gratefully. The Frenchman sat down on the sofa and watched his friend check his appearance in the wall mirror before taking a sip of coffee and sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa. Both men looked up at the sound of a door opening and noticed Carter and Newkirk slowly walking in from their adjoining room. LeBeau gestured with his head towards the cart with covered plates, a coffee pot and a tea pot.

"There is some food, tea and coffee," LeBeau said. He watched Carter head straight for the cart.

"Boy, am I glad. I'm starved," Carter replied eying the eggs, crispy bacon, and sausage on a plate; he also grabbed two slices of toast from a saucer, sat down in a nearby chair, and began to dig into his food; Newkirk just poured himself a cup of tea and a cup of coffee for Carter. After sitting the coffee down on the floor at his friend's feet, Newkirk sat on the arm of the chair where Carter was seated, and took a drink of his tea. He watched Kinch shuffling through papers in his briefcase.

"What have you got planned today, mate?" he asked his friend.

"Not sure exactly," Kinch replied as he closed and locked his briefcase. "But I think one thing I'll do is after I get to the office is phone General Forbes and update him. After that, I have no idea where we could look for proof. How about you, Newkirk?"

The Englander shrugged noncommittally. "Don't rightly know, mate. Might go see General Butler again. Something's been bugging me since me last visit with him. I can't tell you what, but I'll know it when I find it out." He saw Kinch nod at him .

"How about you two?" Kinch asked LeBeau and Carter.

"I think I will hang around here, mon ami," LeBeau told Kinch. "You never know. My angel may call today."

"Blimey," Newkirk muttered. "You and your angel are makin' me bloody nauseous."

"Ha. Ha," LeBeau replied sarcastically. He looked at Carter. "What about you, Andre? Do you want to wait with me or go out?"

Carter, his mouth full of food, could only look up, puzzled; he really hadn't been paying attention to what was being said. He swallowed his mouthful and looked around at the trio. "What? I didn't hear what you were saying."

LeBeau muttered something in French under his breath while Newkirk merely rolled his eyes. All Kinch could do is chuckle.

"What? What did I do?" asked Carter looking around. "What did I miss?"

"Blimey, Andrew," Newkirk said sarcastically. "If whether the Allies winning the war depended on whether you heard something being said, we'd all be speaking bloody German."

"Huh?"

"Ignore, Newkirk," said Kinch. "You going out or staying here with LeBeau while Newkirk and I are gone?"

Carter's face brightened. "Oh. I guess I'll stay here with LeBeau so he won't get lonely waiting for his phone call.

Getting to his feet, Kinch grabbed his coat which he had brought with him after getting dressed and put it on. "I'm ready to leave, Newkirk. You coming?"

"Right with you, Kinch," Newkirk finished his tea and getting to him feet, hurriedly grabbed his coat which was draped over the arm of the sofa and put it on as Kinch grabbed his briefcase; then, the two men bid their friends goodbye and were out the door.

* * *

"What the hell!" Carlyle muttered as he stared at the contents hidden inside the book. Removing them, he put the book on his desk and unfolded the papers. Four of them were originals of toxicology reports for General Robert E. Hogan, Major Jack Bergman, Captain Roger Carver, and Lieutenant Roger Martin. Inside the folded papers was a slightly thick envelope addressed to the Pentagon from Walter Reed. "How the hell did these get in here?" he asked the open air around him. His article now forgotten, Carlyle sat down at his desk and began to read over the toxicology reports paying attention to what they had to say.

"My God," he murmured after he completed reading the report on the General. He then skimmed over the other reports expecting to find the same thing. After he had completed his reading, he reached over to the telephone on the corner of the desk, grabbed the receiver and quickly dialed the phone number he knew by heart and waited.

"_Walter Reed Medical Center,"_ a voice announced.

"Medical Examiner's Department, please."

"_One moment, sir." _There was a few seconds silence before a different voice came over the phone.

"_Medical Examiner's office. This is Lieutenant Driscoll. How may I help you?"_

"This is Dr. Carlyle, Lieutenant. I need to speak with Captain Wolper immediately. It's of the utmost importance."

"_I'm sorry, doctor, but Captain Wolper isn't in at the moment, but he's expected shortly. Can I take a message?"_

Not wanting to disclose any important information over the phone, nor wanting to possibly get anybody in trouble, Carlyle chose his words carefully. "Yes. Please tell him to contact me as soon as he comes in; he knows the phone number. Tell him I have something that belongs to him."

After hanging up the phone, Carlyle went back to trying to figure out how could these reports have ended up inside his reference book? Who could have put them there and why? He soon found his mind considering things it didn't want to consider. He had retired a few weeks after the crash, and had only heard rumblings about it maybe not being an accident; but, as he was leaving Walter Reed, didn't want to get involved in anything heavy now. Also, he had never even heard the name Robert Hogan or knew anything about him. But after leaving Walter Reed for the last time, he made it a point to follow the investigation closely. He trusted Wolper would do his usual thorough job; but unless something strange showed up in the toxicology reports which he didn't expect, he suspected the crash was nothing more than just a tragic accident, and the rumblings based on nothing more than speculation. But now that he had read the toxicology reports for the first time; their contents proved just the opposite. Suddenly he was aroused from his thoughts by the ringing of his telephone. He quickly grabbed the receiver.

"Dr. Carlyle."

"_Brian? It's Bruce. I understand you called earlier? Sorry, but I was running a bit late. What can I do for you? You told Lt. Driscoll you had something that belonged to me?"_

Carlyle took in and let out a deep breath. "I do. I was working on an article for publication and needed to use my reference book and found something inside that I believe doesn't belong inside." He went on to explain what he had found. Then, he waited for the information to sink in with Wolper.

"_How the hell did they end up inside your book? The originals were in our file and the copies were in an envelope addressed to the Pentagon. I remember preparing the copies to be mailed myself. In fact, Captain Kinchloe from the Pentagon called me the other day about them. Said he was checking the files for completeness and the toxicological reports were missing."_

"Look, Brian, I read these reports; all four of them. Is there something going on that you're not telling me? These reports indicate these men were incapacitated prior to the crash."

"_Incapacitated? In what way?"_ Wolper listened and closed his eyes as the information was told to him. "_My God,"_ was all he could muster opening his eyes. "_I have to phone Captain Kinchloe and make him aware the reports have been located and see what he wants to do. But to answer your earlier question, I have no idea what, if anything, is going on. Just don't let those reports out of your sight, and thank you for calling me. Goodbye."_

After hanging up the phone, Wolper quickly contacted Kinch's office only to hear the voice of Sergeant Kinnelon.

"_I'm sorry, Captain Wolper, but Captain Kinchloe hasn't reported in yet. But he did contact me ten minutes ago saying he was on his way. I can have him call you when he arrives if you prefer."_

"Please do, Sergeant. Tell him it concerns the reports he's been asking about. He'll know what I'm talking about." Having hung up, Wolper pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He suddenly felt very weary as he wondered exactly what was going on and why the renewed interest in the fatal crash which killed a General.

* * *

(1)Decker was a character from BAD DAY in BERLIN, Season 4. He had no first name, so I gave him the name Bruno for purposes of this story.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 14**

By the time Kinch arrived at work he was already exhausted despite having nearly a full night's sleep. The conversation he and LeBeau had the night before caused him not to fall back to sleep right away; but he didn't want the Frenchman to know because he would feel badly. So, he figured he would go to his office, call General Forbes with an update regarding the investigation, but then he had no idea what he was going to do after that. Perhaps he would go over what had been uncovered so far and see if perhaps something was missed, or needed to be looked into further. Having reached his office, he smiled at Sergeant Kinnelon who looked up when he saw the Captain and returned the smile. "Morning, sir," Kinnelon said.

"Morning, Sergeant," Kinch replied. "Anything interesting this morning I should know about?"

Kinnelon handed Kinch a single slip of notepad. "You received a call from Captain Wolper of Walter Reed Medical Center. He wants you to call him; says it's about the reports you've been asking about." He noticed Kinch's eyebrows arch.

"Did he say what reports?" Kinch asked, excitement building by the minute as he stared at the slip of paper.

"No. He just said you'd know what he's talking about."

"Okay," Kinch said. He decided to forgo calling Forbes and go directly to his office. "Is General Forbes in his office?"

"He is, sir."

"Okay. I'm going to see him. If anybody calls for me, tell them I'm in conference with the General and to leave their name and number." He hurried out of the office barely hearing Kinnelon's reply. It didn't take him long before he reached the General's office and once again was met with the smiling face of Captain Winger who looked up while continuing with her typing.

"Morning, Captain," she said sweetly as she now paused typing. "Can I help you?" She allowed her blue eyes to look Kinch up and down without being too obvious.

"Yes. Is he available?"

"I believe he is. Do you need to speak with him?"

"I do. Tell him I have some urgent news for him."

"Let me check for you," Winger replied picking up the receiver and buzzing the inner office phone. "General, Captain Kinchloe is here," she said with her blue eyes focused on Kinch the entire time. "He's requesting a conference with you. Right away." She hung up the phone. "Go right in, the General will see you."

"Thank you," Kinch replied pleasantly with a smile as he walked away and in the direction of the closed door to Forbes' office. Internally, Kinch now knew how Hogan felt with a woman's intentions known only to him. Even he had to admit Winger was a stunningly beautiful woman; but the times given what they were in the military would not allow him even being able to ask her to have a cup of coffee with him. He sighed sadly at that knowledge, tucked his cap under his arm, and knocked on the closed door, opening it after he heard the voice on the other side. Kinch looked at Forbes. "I have some new information," he said.

Smiling, Forbes gestured to one of the two vacant seats in front of his desk. "Have a seat." He waited until Kinch was seated. "What brings you to my office so early this morning you haven't even taken time to remove your coat and put down your briefcase?"

Exhaling deeply, Kinch repeated the incidents of the day before while Forbes listened in horror when he heard about the phone call and of Newkirk being followed. When he was finished, Kinch waited for the General's response; he didn't have long to wait.

"That's it. This stops now. I want you and the others to cease your investigation and I'll have a formal investigation re-opened. This is becoming entirely too dangerous." He reached for his telephone.

"No, sir," Kinch said more harshly than he planned, but enough to stop Forbes from picking up the receiver. "I'm begging you not to do that."

Exhaling, Forbes folded his hands on top of his desk, and looked his Senior Aide directly in the eyes. "Then convince me. Tell me exactly what's going on. You've already proven enough doubt to show Hogan's death was not an accident. Can't you and your friends just be satisfied with getting a new investigation started?"

"No," Kinch replied. "It's not enough to simply prove General Hogan's death wasn't an accident; we won't be satisfied until we expose the ones responsible. And even then it won't be enough, but it will have to be. An official investigation will only cause those involved to pull up stakes and disappear. We need to draw them out into the open one by one." He sighed. "But there's three things I didn't tell you."

"And they would be?"

"The first is that someone we worked with once while in Stalag 13, was killed by a German Intelligence agent named Wilhelm Schmidt. We're not exactly certain why he was killed yet, and it could have something to do with the crash. The second is more of a request since somebody was nervous enough to call us with a verbal threat. I'd like to have my office checked for listening devices."

Forbes raised his eyebrows. "And that is because….?"

"I feel if someone feels nervous enough to call and threaten us, it isn't hard to believe they would bug my office to keep tabs on me here so they can find out what Carter, LeBeau, Newkirk and I are up to. But if a bug is found, I want it left where it is. It might prove useful to us."

Forbes grabbed his receiver, pressed a button and waited. "Captain Winger? I want you to connect me with security right away." He waited. "Hello security? General Forbes. I need several of your best men to sweep the office of Captain James Kinchloe for listening devices. However, if you find one, don't remove it; just leave it where it is but let me know where you find it. Excellent. Goodbye." Hanging up, Forbes looked at Kinch. "They'll sweep your office within the hour. What's the third thing?"

"This could be good news. I received a call from Captain Wolper in Walter Reed. Wants me to call him back. Says it's about the reports I've been inquiring about."

Forbes knitted his eyebrows. "You think he means the toxicology reports?"

"I do."

Forbes reached out and turned his phone around to face Kinch. "Go ahead," he said. He watched as Kinch picked up the receiver and dialed the phone number to Walter Reed which he knew so well.

"This is Captain Kinchloe returning Captain Wolper's call. Yes, I'll hold." After a few minutes, Wolper came to the phone. He proceeded to explain to Kinch about the toxicology reports and where they had been found. Once finished, Kinch then asked the question he had wanted to ask. "Captain, what did the reports show as the exact cause of death for General Hogan and the others?" Kinch listened and closed his eyes while pinching the bridge of his nose. "My God," he murmured. "Are you sure? Okay. Captain, I need the phone number for this Dr. Carlyle. And let me ask you not to tell anybody these documents have been found. No, I can't explain why but take my word for it that it's necessary nobody knows. Thank you." He quickly wrote down Carlyle's phone number as Forbes merely watched. Then, Kinch called the number. "Hello, Doctor Carlyle? This is Captain James Kinchloe from the Pentagon. I understand from Captain Wolper you have the originals and copies of the toxicology reports for everyone who perished in the crash of General Hogan's transport. Fine. Don't do anything with those documents. I will be personally coming to your home and pick them up." Kinch looked up when he noticed Forbes was indicating that he would accompany him. "Correction Doctor. Both General Forbes and myself will be coming. Under no circumstances are you to tell _anybody_ about these documents. For matters that I cannot go into, it is vitally important that nobody knows you have them or that they even exist. Can I have your address, sir? Thank you. We'll see you soon." Kinch hung up the phone and looked at Forbes.

"How did the toxicology reports end up inside a reference book belonging to this Doctor Carlyle?" asked the General after Kinch had explained.

"That I'm not sure right now," Kinch replied thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "But if I had to venture a guess, I'd say they were hidden in there by someone who was suppose to get rid of them but didn't have the time, so stuck them in there to hide them with the intent on retrieving them later. But when he returned for them, the book was gone and so was Dr. Carlyle."

Forbes was about to ask the question that preyed on his mind when he saw Kinch again pick up the receiver and dial a phone number. He had a suspicion who Kinch was calling.

"Hello, Andrew? Kinch. Listen, this is important. My office is being swept for bugs. Under no circumstances are either you or Louie to call me at the office and discuss anything you find out until further notice. Also, if you hear from Newkirk, let him know. Thanks. I have to go." He then buzzed Sgt. Kinnelon. "Sergeant, Captain Kinchloe. Listen, if someone named Peter Newkirk should call, take a number and tell him I will get back to him. I have to leave the office for awhile." He hung up the phone and looked at Forbes. "That's in case Newkirk doesn't check in with LeBeau and Carter and calls me instead." The General nodded and checked his watch.

"Arlington's only a few minutes from here," Forbes replied. "Shouldn't take us long. But I'd like to wait for the results of the sweep of your office first."

"I agree," Kinch concluded looking thoughtful. "You appear to have a question you want to ask me, sir," Kinch said. He knew exactly what Forbes wanted to ask him and he steered himself to answer it.

Forbes inhaled and exhaled through his nose. "What did Captain Wolper say the report showed as the cause of Hogan's death? Was it the crash itself?"

Kinch looked grim. "No." He organized his words before continuing. "We both know carbon dioxide is a odorless, colorless, and tasteless gas. According to Wolper, CO2 is not really a poison, but one can die from suffocation if it's inhaled in large amounts." He added that the ME explained an excessive CO2 concentration in the blood can cause dizziness, nausea, vomiting, headaches, shortness of breath, and fatigue, as well as the symptoms for a high level of carbon dioxide in the blood include increased high blood pressure, muscle twitches, headache, chest-pain, confusion, and fatigue. "The alveoli in the lungs gets damaged leading to an impairment of the gases," he added. (1)

Forbes listened carefully, his heart breaking with each word. "And the bottom line is what?" he asked Kinch.

Kinch looked down at his hands as he picked at his nails. When he finally spoke, it was without looking up. "Everybody on-board was totally incapacitated so the pilots weren't able to respond after the plane was struck by lightning. Combined with the loss of cabin pressure, Wolper believes everybody on-board was either dead or dying by the time the plane crashed. The loss of cabin pressure caused those who were dying to pass out before the crash."

"My God," Forbes murmured rubbing his forehead; he felt the beginnings of a headache. "That pretty much confirms that Hogan was murdered," he added softly.

Kinch nodded, his voice void of emotion. "I was really hoping I was wrong."

"So was I," Forbes added, exhaling. "Any idea how the CO2 was released?"

Kinch looked up. "The only place it could have come from would be from the CO2 bottles in the cargo hold. It would explain why they were empty. Somehow the CO2 was leaked into the cargo hold first incapacitating the General and his aide, and then slowly worked it's way into the cabin where the pilots were eventually incapacitating them."

Forbes nodded. "And from what you told me before, the fact that there was no report of any fire by the pilots, could indicate that the fire warning light in the cabin was probably deactivated so it wouldn't work. And that could only be done by someone on the maintenance crew." Forbes shook his head. "But that's not possible. The plane was checked out thoroughly before taking off; even the pilots pre-flight test didn't indicate any problems."

Kinch's eyes were cold. "Then somebody on that maintenance crew tampered with that plane and knew how to do it in such a way that nothing would show up when the pilots did their pre-flight test."

"So what do you want to do now?" asked Forbes.

"Okay. First we need to find out who in the hanger was responsible for tampering with the plane."

"That shouldn't be difficult," Forbes agreed. "I'll make sure security gets on it immediately. "What else?"

Kinch sighed. "If something is found in my office, we can use it to catch the person who's inside the Pentagon and Major Desmond."

"Explain to me exactly how Major Desmond fits into this."

"I think Desmond was responsible for getting someone inside the Pentagon for the purpose of gathering information on the General so his death could be planned accordingly. That kind of work is right up Schmidt's alley. He use to be German Intelligence, so planting a bug and spying is what he does. But there's no current photos of Schmidt so we have no idea what he looks like after all these years. Also, Desmond hated the General and I, mostly me. In fact, he told me the other day when we were in the elevator that he wished I had been on the transport with the General so he could have been rid of both of us."

Forbes sighed. "Kinch, from now on I want you to report any interactions with Desmond. I mean it. Knowing how he feels about you I don't want to be caught by surprise."

"General…"

"No. It's not debatable. I want to know. Consider it a direct order. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. God, what a mess," Forbes sighed wearily. Just then, both men looked around when somebody knocked on the door. "Enter," the General ordered.

The door opened, and one of the security men, a Sergeant, stepped inside; he looked from Kinch to Forbes. "We just finished a complete sweep of Captain Kinchloe's office, sir," he said.

"And?" Forbes asked.

The man swallowed. "We found a small bug planted underneath the telephone on your desk, Captain. As requested, we didn't remove it. We left it exactly where we found it."

"Good work, Sergeant," Forbes said. He glanced at Kinch who nodded before he looked at the Sergeant again. "That'll be all. And make sure neither you nor your men breath a word of this to anybody."

"Yes, sir." The Sergeant exited the office leaving Forbes and Kinch alone. The General then turned to Kinch.

"I know you. You wouldn't want that bug left in your office unless for a very good reason. What do you have in mind?" he asked.

Kinch sighed. "As far as the hanger goes, we'll have to see who it is. But, as far as the bug in my office, if it is Schmidt, I have an idea how to lure him out into the open. But first, I think we should head to Arlington, and get those toxicology reports. I won't feel relieved until we have those documents in our possession."

* * *

(1) All details about carbon dioxide and its effects are from various sites.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 15**

Jack Williams was rapidly becoming bored sitting outside Butler's house; he wasn't use to sitting around doing nothing except babysitting an elderly man. He was a man of action. And the two actions he craved right now was putting a bullet in the head of one old man, and his hands around Newkirk's neck. He figured he owed the Englander for the grief he gave him while in Stalag 13. And despite what he was told by his benefactor when he agreed to join the group who planned to take out Hogan, he had his own agenda. And that agenda was to take out Newkirk first chance he got and convince the head man it was a matter of self defense. So Williams, with that single thought in his head, allowed a crooked smirk to appear when he saw the Englander's car pulling up outside the retired General's home. As he watched Newkirk exit the car, Williams reached into his glove compartment and removed the pistol nobody knew he carried there and, after making sure it was fully loaded, tucked it inside his inner jacket pocket. He continued to sit, watch, and wait.

The hairs at the base of Newkirk's head bristled as he approached Butler's house, and had been since he pulled up outside and left his car. He was about to knock on the door when it automatically opened and he found himself face-to-face with Butler. The General stood aside to allow Newkirk to enter and closed the door; but not before he glanced cautiously around outside.

Newkirk tried acting casual not wanting to frighten the man in case he didn't know he was being watched. He waited until the General had closed the door and looked at him. One look at Newkirk's face told the General the Englander knew the truth.

"Expectin' company, General?" he asked.

"I hope not," Butler grimly replied as he turned away and slowly walked in the direction of the couch. As he sat down on it, he glanced up at the Englander who was sitting down in a chair near the couch. "But I know they're watching me, and have been since I retired."

"I thought as much from the way you were actin' the last time I was here," Newkirk said. "General, if you don't mind me sayin' so, you don't look well. I can always come back later and talk."

Butler waved him off. "There may not be a later for me," he said quietly having reached a decision during the night.

"How so, sir?" Newkirk asked with narrowed eyes and arms resting on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. He had suspected the last time he visited that something wasn't right with Butler, but didn't push and would let the man tell him in his own time. But whatever it was, Newkirk sensed it was serious; but he wasn't prepared for what the General said next.

"I'm dying, Newkirk. I probably won't live past October."

Newkirk's eyes widened like saucers. "You can't be serious, sir. Not a good man like you. It can't be true."

"It's true. Hogan knew."

"Blimey," Newkirk remarked with a faraway look on his face. "So that was what the Gov'nor was keeping from me. I thought he was withholdin' somethin'. But I never imagined it would be anything like this. I'm so sorry, sir. Is there anything you need?"

Butler shrugged his shoulders. "What I want you can't give me," he said. "And that is more time. But that's not what's important. I probably won't live long enough to see those responsible for Hogan's death punished. Just promise me you, Kinch, LeBeau and Carter will find them and see they're punished to the fullest extent of the law."

"Blimey. You're the gent who sent the information to us at the bar."

"I am. I think it's best if I start at the beginning." Butler then explained what he knew so far including his last conversation with Hogan shortly before his death. When he finished, he looked into Newkirk's face and saw a sadness he hadn't before. "I'm sorry that you and the others didn't know about Hogan being threatened for at least a month before his death. But that's the way he wanted it. He didn't want any of you to worry about him, especially Kinch."

Newkirk looked at his clasped hands and shook his head. "Bloody hell," he muttered in a whisper. "The Gov'nor shouldn't have had to go through that alone. He should have told us; one of us, anyway." He lifted his pain-filled eyes to the General. "If one of us had known, he might still be alive instead of…." he didn't finish.

"I know. But you know how Hogan was; stubborn to the end. He didn't want any of you in danger." He sighed. "Do you have any suspects at the moment?"

Newkirk looked up. "Matter of fact we do," he replied. Newkirk then explained about Schmidt and Desmond.

"Major Desmond?" asked Butler with arched eyebrows.

"Yes, sir."

"I heard talk about him while I was still with the Pentagon, and knew he was a racist. I mean, he made no secret of his feelings regarding black people. But I didn't know he had a grudge against Hogan as well."

"Yes, sir," Newkirk said. "Seems the Gov'nor cost him a promotion at the time and he resented him for it. Blamed Kinch for the General takin' the action against 'im he did."

"Do any of you have any idea how many others may be involved?"

"Not yet. But personally, I don't think from what Kinch has said that Desmond has the brains for this kind of planning, and neither does Schmidt; although Schmidt has the patience for it. No, sir, someone else is pulling the strings, and so far we have no idea who. But none of us are giving up until we find out who. I promise you that." He smiled sadly at the General knowing that the man spoke the truth when he said he probably wouldn't live long enough to see those responsible pay for their crime. It was now he closely examined the General's face, and noticed the weak smile and calm exterior at his words and allowed himself to relax. Also, his face was drawn and he looked tired. Newkirk was about to say something when the doorbell rang three times. Newkirk and Butler both exchanged puzzled looks.

"You sure you're not expectin' someone, General?" the Englander asked warily. He noticed Butler shake his head and start getting to his feet. Newkirk reached inside his jacket pocket and gripped his pistol which he carried with him and got up as well. The doorbell rang again.

* * *

Carter and LeBeau were playing their third hand of gin rummy with the Frenchman occasionally glancing over at the phone willing it to ring. Mumbling under his breath in French, LeBeau tossed out a card causing Carter, with a wide grin on his face, to lay down his hand. "Gin," he said happily. His grin turned into a frown when he saw the way LeBeau tossed down his remaining cards.

"C'mon, LeBeau," Carter said gathering the cards together and shuffling them. "I've never won three hands in a row before. Makes me wonder if you're letting me win on purpose." He continued shuffling. "Wanna play another hand?"

"Not really," LeBeau said rubbing the back of his neck. He stared at the phone. "Will you ring already?"

"Jeez, Louie, give it a rest. Marya said she would call as soon as she knew something and not before. You can't rush these things."

"But the longer she takes to call back the more I worry something has befallen my angel."

"C'mon. Marya knows how to take care of herself. Besides, you know what they say; Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

LeBeau shook his head and looked at the American. "Here's something else they say; nobody asked you."

Shrugging his shoulders, Carter decided to play a game of solitaire. After laying down a few cards in their appropriate places, he spoke without looking up. "Hey, Louie, do you ever think about Colonel Hogan since the day we found out about his….y'know."

LeBeau ran a hand over his hair. "How do you mean, mon ami?"

Carter looked up this time. "Well, I mean do you ever think about some of the crazy schemes he came up with while we were in Stalag 13?"

LeBeau chuckled. "Oui. I think my favorite was when the Colonel had us take up basket weaving and kite flying to get that British agent out of camp. It was so funny watching that hot air balloon rising higher and higher into the night sky while Hochstetter and Klink were arguing. I was positive Schultz was going to ruin everything" (1)

Carter smirked. "Boy, he nearly did by keeping us from getting that balloon in the air. I thought the Colonel was gonna have a heart attack or something. It was pretty funny, all right. We even offered the Colonel two weeks on the Riviera after we heard his plan." He laughed. "But I think my favorite was when Freddy was in camp." (2)

LeBeau shook his head, amused. "Naturellement you would remember that one, Andre. You are the one who brought the chimpanzee into the barracks. I thought for sure the Colonel was going to replace you with him." He chuckled. "But Freddy didn't stay with us long enough for Newkirk to teach him how to make the explosives." Both men chuckled at the memory. It was then the telephone rang, and LeBeau being close by, grabbed the receiver and pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?" the little Frenchman asked with nervous anticipation.

"_My delicious small one. It is Marya."_

Carter rolled his eyes at seeing the Frenchman's sudden goofy grin appear.

"I was so worried I wouldn't hear from you," LeBeau said in a love-struck voice. "I feared for your safety."

"_That is so sweet. I wish I could take you in my arms and hug you."_

LeBeau chuckled. "So do I."

"_I will make it up to you….next time we meet. I promise."_

"I will count the days until then." LeBeau didn't see Carter shake his head.

"C'mon, LeBeau," he said, embarrassed to overhear his friend's romance talk. "What does she have on the Colonel?" He ignored the dirty look the Frenchman gave him.

"I cannot tie up the phone, my angel. We're expecting another phone call."

"_Another woman?"_

"Never," LeBeau chuckled with a dreamy look.

"LeBeau!" Carter said. Again the American received a dirty look as LeBeau mumbled something in French under his breath.

"_Your friend Carter has been without a woman for awhile?"_

"Non. He is not French so he doesn't know amour like the French," he said with a glance at his friend. "But I really cannot tie up the phone. What do you have for us?"

"_Not much. You should talk to your friend, Kinchloe. He would know more about it. But I can tell you what little I know. Are you familiar with the Berlin Blockade?"_

"I have heard something about it. Was the Colonel involved in it?"

"_From what I could find out he was. But you must keep in mind it was the first international crises of the Cold War resulting in casualties. Remember after the war ended, the various Allied Powers divided Germany into four temporary occupation zones, and Berlin was divided into four sectors: the French sector, British sector, American sector, and the Soviet sector. Anyway, the day after June 18, 1948, Soviet guards halted all passenger trains and traffic on the autobahn to Berlin, delayed Western and German freight shipments and required that all water transport secure special Soviet permission."(3)_

"But why did they do such a thing?" asked LeBeau.

"_So impatient, my small one. Marya will get to that soon. Anyway, according to my contacts, on June 24, the Soviets severed all land and water communication between the non-Soviet zones and Berlin. That same day, they halted all rail and barge traffic in and out of Berlin. The next day, the Soviets stopped supplying food to the civilian population in the non-Soviet sectors of Berlin. They also cut off the electricity relied on by Berlin, using their control over the generating plants in the Soviet zone. The Soviet Union blocked the Western Allies' railway and road access to the sectors under Allied control. The purpose was to force the western powers to allow the Soviet zone to begin supplying Berlin with food and fuel, thereby giving the Soviets practical control over the entire city."_

"How did the Colonel fit into this?"

"_From what my contacts said, Hogan was involved in the Berlin Airlift to airlift food and other necessities into West Berlin. I do not know if Hogan was involved in anything other than that. To know the particulars, you should really speak to your friend, Kinchloe. But I can tell you that Hogan made no enemies between 1948 and 1949."_

LeBeau, closing his eyes for a moment, heaved a deep sigh of relief. "That is good to know. Thank you for that. We will speak with Kinch about this Berlin Airlift."

"_My delicious small one, so worried. I hope I have helped."_

LeBeau chuckled. "How could you not."

"_Then I am glad. But I must go now. It is not wise for Marya to stay in one place for too long these days. But do not worry, LeBeau. I will see you soon. Goodbye." _There was a click disconnecting the call before LeBeau could respond. Sadly, the Frenchman hung up the receiver and sighed.

"What did she have to say?" asked Carter, watching his friend walk away from the phone and sit back down.

"She said the Colonel was involved in the Berlin Airlift and as far as she knows, made no enemies. But we will have to speak with Kinch about it."

Carter raised both eyebrows. "I head about that. The Colonel mentioned something about it in one of his letters to me. He didn't give many details though except it sounded real important." He noticed the sad look on his friend's face. "Is Marya all right?"

"I thought you, Kinch, and Newkirk didn't trust my angel?" LeBeau asked skeptically eying the American.

"Well, just because I don't trust her doesn't mean I want something to happen to her."

A smile slowly crept onto LeBeau's face. "Merci, Andre."

* * *

Butler stood looking at the door while Newkirk came up beside him, pistol in hand.

"Who do you think it is?" asked Butler not looking at Newkirk.

"I don't know. But when I parked outside I had a feelin' somebody was watchin' me. Could be our friend figures it's time for a more personal touch." He approached the door slowly as there was a knocking heard. Keeping himself close to the door-frame, Newkirk peeked through the curtains and saw a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair. He suddenly saw the man reach inside his jacket.

"RUN!" the Englander shouted turning around and running. Both he and Butler hadn't gotten very far when the door burst open slamming against the wall and the man Newkirk had seen stepped inside the doorway and opened fire.

* * *

(1) From the episode WHAT TIME DOES THE BALLOON GO UP?, Season 3.

(2) From the episode MONKEY BUSINESS, Season 3.

(3) The Berlin Blockade began June 24, 1948 and ended May 12, 1949. At the time of the blockade, West Berlin had thirty-six days worth of food, and about forty-five days worth of coal. Believing that Britain, France, and the United States had little choice other than to give in, the Soviet Military Administration in Germany celebrated the beginning of the blockade. Joseph Stalin did not want a war, and the Soviet actions were mainly aimed at exerting military and political pressure on the West to obtain concessions, relying on the West's unwillingness to provoke a war. Information courtesy of Wikipedia.


	17. Chapter 17

*****A/N: There are a few derogatory racial terms in this chapter but not many.*****

**Chapter 16**

Both Newkirk and Butler hadn't gotten far when the gunfire started. Being older and ill, Butler didn't have the quickness nor the agility of the younger Newkirk. He gasped suddenly and fell to his knees as a bullet tore into his back. He staggered at first before falling to his knees; Newkirk hissed as he felt a searing pain in his left arm, and knew he'd been shot, but also knew he'd be dead if he didn't keep moving. Not realizing Butler had been hit, and ignoring the pain, he dove forward, landed on his opposite shoulder, and rolling over came up firing hitting his target. He was ready to fire again when he saw the man, blood pouring from a hole in the center of his chest, stagger a few unsteady steps further into the room before collapsing to his knees, finally falling sideways and laying motionless, his fingertips resting on his dropped weapon.

Newkirk, on one knee, slowly got to his feet and warily approached the downed man kicking the dropped weapon away before picking it up and tucking it in his waistband. He then prodded the man with his foot; there was no response. Dropping to one knee, he pressed two fingers against the man's throat checking for a pulse and found none. The man was dead. The Englander then got up, went to the open door and closed it before turning around. The last thing he needed now was somebody coming in.

"He's dead, General," he said with relief before his eyes fell on Butler who was lying sprawled face-down on the floor with a widening circle of blood in the center of his back. "General!" Newkirk hurried to the older man and kneeling down checked Butler, heaving a sigh of relief as he found a pulse although a weak and thready one. He carefully turned the man over onto his back and cradled his head in his arms. "General, can you hear me at all, sir? Say something."

"Newkirk…." Butler said in a voice just above a whisper with barely open eyes.

"Hang on, sir. I'll phone for an ambulance and…." Newkirk began to slide out from under Butler's body but stopped when Butler laid a hand on the Englander's arm.

"Don't….bother….better….this way….than from….cancer." Butler's voice was steadily growing softer and he was having trouble focusing now.

"Please, sir…let me get you some help. I'm not gonna let you die." Newkirk felt a burning in his eyes.

"Gonna….die…anyway," Butler gasped. He began coughing and blood rolled down from the corner of his mouth.

"That's it," Newkirk said. "I'm calling for an ambulance and get you to a hospital." He again starting to move, but Butler weakly shook his head.

"No hos….pital. Please. Just promise…me…something…."

Newkirk felt something wet roll down his cheeks. He didn't bother brushing it away. "What's that, sir?" He could feel the older man slipping away and it hurt.

Butler swallowed hard and grimaced. "Promise….you'll…find…who killed….Hogan for me…promise…me."

"I promise, sir. We'll get every last one of the bloody bastards. That we will. Don't you worry none."

Butler smiled, and then he was gone.

"Sir? General? Cor blimey!" Newkirk slid out from under Butler and gently laid his head on the floor. Pressing two fingers against the General's throat again, he found no pulse. He reached out and closed Butler's eyes before bowing his own head and resting his hands on his thighs as he now knelt on the floor. He wiped his wet cheeks with the back of his hand using his good arm. "Bloody hell, General, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. For what it's worth, you were a good and decent man who backed us and the Gov'nor in Stalag 13 no matter what. We're sure gonna miss you, sir. Be sure to say hello to the Gov'nor for us when you see 'im."

Exhaling deeply, Newkirk slowly got to his feet and walked shakily over to the other body. "Now, let's see who the bloody hell you are, mate." Crouching down beside the body, he began searching the man's pockets. "I don't know why, but there's something ruddy familiar about you for some reason." Finding the man's wallet in a back pants pocket, Newkirk removed two driver's licenses and gasped. One license had the name Samuel Castleman on it along with a photo of the man lying on the floor; but it was the other license that gave him pause. It had a different name on it along with the photo of a man Newkirk hated, a much younger man with dark hair who nearly got him and his friends killed in Stalag 13: JACK WILLIAMS.

"You bleedin' bastard!" Newkirk hissed as he returned the licenses to the wallet and stuck the wallet into his jacket pocket. It was then that he became acutely aware of the pain in his arm. Up until then Newkirk had been running on pure adrenaline; and now that the rush was subsiding, the pain became nearly unbearable. Taking a look, he noticed the blood running down his arm. Reaching into his pants pocket, the Englander removed a handkerchief and using his teeth, was able to tie the handkerchief tightly around his injury hoping to at least control the bleeding. Standing up, Newkirk swayed a bit as dizziness came over him. "Blimey," was all he could say as he leaned against the back of the couch and stayed there until the dizziness passed.

After a few minutes, Newkirk rubbed the back of his neck knowing he couldn't stay where he was with two dead bodies. Feeling woozy from blood loss, he slowly walked to the telephone and, picking up the receiver dialed Kinch's number. _"Kinch, old mate, please be in your office,"_ the Englander told himself leaning against the table as another wave of dizziness overtook him.

"_Pentagon, Sergeant Kinnelon."_

"Sergeant, this is Peter Newkirk. I need to speak with Captain Kinchloe. It's urgent."

"_Oh yes, Mr. Newkirk. Captain Kinchloe said you might call. I'm sorry, but he and General Forbes are out of the office at the moment. Can I perhaps take a message?"_

Newkirk gritted his teeth and closed his eyes momentarily. "Blimey," he mumbled under his breath. What was he going to do now? He didn't want to call LeBeau and Carter; they'd only panic and worry about him. And he didn't want to call the local police because the moment that happened the others responsible would find out and that would probably end their investigation permanently as they would go deep undercover where they would never be found.

"_Hello? Are you still there?"_

"Yeah. I'm still here. Do you know when they'll be back?"

"_Hard to say. They left here over an hour ago. But I can….wait a minute. You're in luck, Mr. Newkirk. Captain Kinchloe just walked into the office. Please hold." _A few moments passed before Newkirk heard the voice he longed to hear.

"_Peter? I just got back. What's…."_

Newkirk felt his knees beginning to give out. "I'm at Butler's. He's dead as is Williams. Shooting."

"_What? What happened? Newkirk? Newkirk!"_

Unable to answer, Newkirk slumped to the floor unconscious and lay there.

Hearing the sound of something hitting the floor, Kinch muttered an oath under his breath before disconnecting the call and then urgently dialing. He mumbled under his breath impatiently waiting for someone to pick up. The wait seemed forever, but finally he heard the click on the other end.

"_Security."_

"This is Captain Kinchloe. I want you to listen and listen carefully. I want a team of your best men to head to General Butler's home right away but to wait outside until General Forbes and myself arrive." Hanging up, he quickly dialed another number. "Carter, it's Kinch. Listen, there's been a shooting at General Butler's house and I think Newkirk might be injured. I want you and LeBeau to meet me there but don't do anything until I arrive." After that, he dialed Forbes number. "General, Captain Kinchloe. Listen, there's been a shooting at General Butler's house and I'm heading there now; I thought you'd want to come along. Right, I'll meet you outside." Hanging up, Kinch looked at a puzzled and worried Kinnelon. "Have a car and driver outside immediately," he ordered. "Then call Walter Reed and have two ambulances sent to General Butler's house. And Sergeant, no matter who asks, I'm out of the office and you don't know where I went or when I'll be back. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Kinnelon replied. He knew better than to ask questions of the Captain whom he respected and liked. He figured the Captain would tell him when and if he was ready. He watched Kinch turn and practically run from the office while picking up the receiver and dialing.

* * *

LeBeau's eyes narrowed when he saw Carter's face pale before his eyes.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked seeing his friend appear to be going into shock. Not getting an answer, LeBeau grabbed the American by both arms, turned him towards him, and shook him. "Talk to me, Andre! What did Kinch say?"

As if awakening from a dream, Carter's eyes met those of the smaller man. "Kinch said there's been a shooting at General Butler's house, and that Newkirk might be injured. He wants us to meet him there."

"Sacre chats!" LeBeau echoed. "Come, we must leave immediately." He grabbed Carter by the arm and dragged him towards the door. All that was important right now was that Newkirk might be injured and needed them. LeBeau swore to himself if Newkirk was seriously hurt, there would be no place his attacker could hide from him.

* * *

Desmond was sitting behind his desk reviewing some official reports when there was a knock on his door.

"Fuck," he murmured, annoyed at the interruption. He had left strict instructions with his assistant, Sergeant Hightower, that he was not to be interrupted unless it was urgent. Even then he really didn't want to be disturbed, but he never knew who it might be. Sighing, he looked up from his paperwork.

"Come in," he announced harshly. The door opened and Sergeant Hightower stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob. "What is it, Sergeant?" He knew he had a look on his face that showed his displeasure at being disturbed, but he really didn't care what Hightower thought or felt. In fact, he considered the man useless as an assistant and was considering replacing him.

"Sorry to bother you, Major. But there's someone here to see you. He says you know him and that it's urgent."

Desmond shook his head and sighed. "I'm not in the mood for guessing games, Sergeant. Tell whoever it is I'm extremely busy and come back another time."

Hightower glanced over his shoulder before turning back to Desmond. "He said it's really important he speak with you, sir."

Desmond got to his feet, his eyes blazing and his face a deep crimson. "I _told_ you to tell whoever…." He paused when Decker's form suddenly appeared behind the Sergeant.

"You don't have time to chat with your old friend, Major?" Decker asked with a warning smile on his face which sent chills down the Major's spine.

Glancing over his shoulder again at the man, Hightower turned back to his boss. "Sorry, sir," he apologized. "But he was a bit persistent."

Desmond swallowed the sudden lump in his throat; and his entire demeanor seemed to change which escaped Hightower's eyes. "That's quite all right, Sergeant. You may leave the two of us alone, and please close the door after you leave. Oh, and Sergeant, make sure we're not disturbed."

"Yes, sir." Hightower stood aside to allow Decker to pass into the Major's office before stepping outside and closing the door behind him.

Decker waited until the younger man left the office and closed the door before he sat down in the chair facing Desmond's desk not waiting to be asked, and crossed his legs. "I suggest you sit down. I don't like looking up at people who work for me."

Desmond quietly and slowly sank back into his plush chair and nervously leaned back in it, waiting. For some reason this man scared him, and had since he bumped into him nearly two years ago. He licked his dry lips and gave the man his complete attention.

"That's better," Decker smirked as he pyramided his fingertips in front of the lower half of his face. "Now, I realize you're probably surprised to see me, and normally, I would not contact you personally. But I find I must make an exception this time. I need you to complete a task for me."

Desmond shifted in his chair. "Look, I appreciate the money you've given me in the past. It's helped tremendously with the child support and alimony. But now that Hogan's dead, I don't see where you need my help anymore. I've done everything you've asked of me. And you promised to help me get rid of that nigger Captain."

Decker's cold, hard eyes stared seemingly right through the man. "I wasn't asking you. Besides, it's not my fault the good Captain wasn't on the transport with Hogan. If he had been, he would have been what I believe you call collateral damage. But since he wasn't, he is not my problem. We got what we wanted." He then smiled innocently. "But perhaps what I need you to do for me will ease your mind to some degree regarding the good Captain."

Desmond's eyebrows knitted. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Decker smirked. "Then let me explain it to you. I want you to set up a meeting between General Butler and General Forbes."

Desmond's eyes widened in surprise. "Why?"

"It's simple. General Forbes is protecting Captain Kinchloe. With him out of the way, there will be no-one to watch the good Captain's back."

"You mean…."

"I mean this meeting between Butler and Forbes will take place at Butler's house as-soon-as-possible. I have a man watching Butler continuously. While the meeting is taking place, he will break into Butler's home and execute both men. Once that has been accomplished, it will be up to you to inform Andrew Wyler, who will then take care of the man who executed both men."

"But….but….why do you want someone to kill one of your own men?"

"Let me remind you of something. It is dangerous to ask so many questions. It's….unhealthy shall we say. However, I will allow it this time only. Now, to answer your question, my man, Mr. Castleman, is a bit of a loose cannon as they say. I can't trust him to control his desire to kill the Englander Newkirk despite my orders to the contrary. By him ridding me of Butler and Forbes, a problem is eliminated. And by ridding myself of Mr. Castleman, I eliminate someone I cannot trust. I can just as easily rid myself of you as well. I suggest you keep that in mind should you get any ideas."

Desmond pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He could feel a raging headache coming on. Looking up again, he watched Decker reach inside his inner jacket pocket and remove an envelope. Leaning forward, the man tossed it onto the Major's desk then leaned back in his chair.

"That should make you feel somewhat better about things," he said. He watched Desmond hesitantly pick up the envelope and look inside; his eyebrows arching as he counted the bills.

"There's ten thousand dollars in here," Desmond remarked, stunned.

"Consider it your regular payment of five thousand plus a bonus. You have seventy-two hours to accomplish what I want. Fail me, and you won't like what happens." Decker slowly got to his feet. Opening the office door, Decker paused in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob. "We'll talk again in a few days." Then, he pulled the door closed behind him leaving Desmond alone in his office.

Nearly immediately there was a knock on the door. Desmond hastily stuffed the envelope inside his jacket. "Come in."

The door opened and Hightower looked in. "Do you need anything, sir?" he asked.

Desmond looked at the Sergeant for a long while. He felt the walls closing in on him and it suddenly was becoming stuffy in the office. He needed to escape right now; he got to his feet and walked around his desk. Grabbing his cap off the coat rack, he glanced at Hightower. "If anybody wants me I'm with General Forbes, Sergeant." He then brushed past the younger man without another word leaving a very confused Sergeant staring at his receding back.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 17**

By the time Carter and LeBeau arrived at Butler's home, the sight that greeted them outside caused all kinds of thoughts to race through their heads, and for them to think the worse. They spotted two military ambulances parked outside the residence, then, they counted at least seven security guards probably from the Pentagon; two of them were outside the open door of the house. With panic setting in, they hurried up the steps, only to be stopped from entering by both of the guards posted.

"I'm sorry," one of them said firmly. "You can't go inside. Move along."

"But we were told to come here by Captain Kinchloe," LeBeau explained excitedly. But his words fell on deaf ears.

"You heard my partner," the other said. "Now please move along."

LeBeau was about to protest when Kinch, hearing the Frenchman's voice, stepped outside, glancing at the guard who had spoken. "It's okay, Sergeant, they're with me." He looked at his friends. "Louis, Andrew, come inside." He then turned and stepped back inside followed closely by Carter and LeBeau. Both men gasped seeing a body on the floor near the sofa covered with a sheet lying on a stretcher with two men about to pick it up and carry it outside. They also noticed the blood on the floor. LeBeau began to feel faint and ran both hands down his face. Carter immediately put a hand on the Frenchman's shoulder.

"You okay, LeBeau?" he asked, worried.

"Blimey, LeBeau, after all this time you still faint at the sight of blood?" asked a familiar voice.

"Pierre!" LeBeau remarked glad to see his friend who was seated on the sofa with his jacket and shirt off, and an attendant working on his injured arm. He then looked at the body on the floor. "Then who….?"

Kinch exhaled deeply. "I'm afraid that's General Butler's body."

"Holy cow!" Carter exclaimed with wide eyes. "Somebody killed General Butler?"

Newkirk glanced over the back of the sofa at the covered body. "The General told me he was the one who delivered the information to the restaurant that that waitress gave to Kinch that day. He wanted us here to investigate the Gov'nor's death because….because he was dying from cancer and wouldn't be able to continue with his own covert investigation."

"Wow!" was all Carter could say.

"Sacre chat," muttered LeBeau. Then, he and Carter hurried forward and gathered as close to their friend as they could get. LeBeau sat between Kinch and Newkirk, while Carter sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa but out of the attendant's way. Kinch, on the other hand, sat on the arm of the sofa while General Forbes was talking to one of the security guards nearby. "Are you all right, mon ami?"

"Takes a lot more than a shot in the arm to stop ole Peter Newkirk," the Englander joked then promptly winced as a dressing was placed over his wound. "Actually, it looked a lot worse than it was. Bullet grazed me arm; but it bled quite a lot." He noticed Carter's worried expression and his face softened. "I'm all right, Carter. I'm in a wee bit of pain is all. Don't look so bloody worried. I'm fine."

Kinch smirked. "We found you passed out on the floor." He ignored the look Newkirk gave him.

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau exclaimed.

Carter shrugged. "Well I was worried. You've been my best friend since forever. When Kinch told me you might be injured I thought we might lose you. I don't think I could handle losing my best friend on top of losing the Colonel, I mean the General."

Reaching out a hand, Newkirk patted Carter's knee. "You're not gonna lose me, mate. It's gonna take more than this to get rid of me." A slight smile appeared. "But thanks for worrying about me."

"What about me?" asked a slightly offended LeBeau. "I was worried as well."

Newkirk's smile became wider as he slowly and carefully and with Carter's help, put his tee-shirt back on over his head. "My, we are a bit touchy, aren't we?"

The Frenchman mumbled a string of French words which told Newkirk he was probably being cussed out. He smiled affectionately at the Frenchman. "Take it easy, Louie. I was just pulling your leg is all." Newkirk slowly put on his shirt, and as he buttoned it, he glanced up at Kinch. "So what now?"

"What now is you're going to the hospital and let them check you over thoroughly," Kinch said.

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Kinch. I don't need to go to any hospital. It's only me arm that's injured. Besides, it's just a graze." He started to his feet and immediately became dizzy and fell back on the sofa. He put a hand to his head.

"Umm-hmmm," Kinch remarked.

Newkirk looked up at his friend. "Don't umm-hmmm me, mate. I just got up a little too fast is all."

"Listen to Kinch, Pierre. Go to the hospital and let them look you over."

"I don't need to go to no bleedin' hospital. I said I'm fine and I'm fine. So knock it off." Turning his head, Newkirk noticed Carter looking at him with puppy-dog eyes. "C'mon, Andrew, not you too."

"Newkirk, it's not gonna hurt you to go to the hospital. Besides, think of all the pretty nurses that'll take care of you there."

"Newkirk, you're going to the hospital and have a doctor check you out," Forbes ordered.

"Beggin' the General's pardon," Newkirk looked at the General. "But I'm not in the military anymore. You can't order me."

"Don't care," Forbes said. "You either go to the hospital or I'll see that you're pulled off this investigation permanently."

The Englander appeared horrified. "You can't do that, sir!"

"I can and I will," Forbes assured him. He saw Newkirk grumble and finally sigh in defeat.

"All right. I'll go to the bleedin' hospital, but only to get all of you off me back."

Forbes smiled in victory. "Good. LeBeau, Carter, escort Newkirk outside to the waiting ambulance, and ride with him to the hospital. Tell the driver you're following my orders and if he has any problem he can see me."

"Yes, sir," said Carter.

"Oui, mon General," added LeBeau.

"Good. But before you go, I have a question for you, Newkirk."

"Yes, sir?" the Englander asked looking over at Forbes.

"Do you have any idea who the gunman is and why he'd kill General Butler?"

"Yeah to both questions," Newkirk replied. He slowly reached into his jacket pocket and removed Williams' wallet, opened it, and removed the two licenses; he handed them to Kinch. "Samuel Castleman, also-known-as Jack Williams, hated the Gov'nor," Newkirk explained to Forbes as Kinch looked at both licenses before handing them to LeBeau. "He shared our barracks in Stalag 13 and planned on selling us out to the Nazis. Fortunately the Gov'nor found out about it and stopped that bloody bastard before he could. He swore he'd get back at the Gov'nor one day." He hung his head and shook it. "I wish I hadn't killed him though. He might've been able to tell us who else is involved."

Kinch patted the Englander's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. We may have another way to find out." He watched as Carter handed the licenses to Forbes for his perusal.

"What way?" asked Newkirk.

Kinch sighed. "A bug was found in my office. I think we can use it to catch them."

"Enough talk," Forbes told them handing the licenses to Kinch. "LeBeau, Carter, get going. We'll stop at the hospital later."

Together, Carter and LeBeau helped a grumbling Newkirk to his feet and walking slowly, led him outside to the empty waiting ambulance.

Forbes turned his attention to Kinch. "I'm more inclined now than before to have all of you removed from this investigation. This thing is becoming entirely too dangerous." He sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. "But, the fact that the four of you know the gunman tells me not to. I have a suspicion that if this Jack Williams is tied to your Stalag 13 days, than its entirely possible the others are as well."

Kinch nodded. "I agree. It makes sense. But we have to keep both Williams' and General Butler's deaths quiet, and act as if Butler is still alive. As he was being watched, they must have considered Butler a threat somehow. I just hate to use the General this way. He was a good man."

"That he was," Forbes agreed. "And I don't think he'd mind you using him this way if it helps us catch the guilty parties." He patted Kinch on the back. "Let's get back to the office and go over those reports in your briefcase, and then head to the hospital and check on Newkirk."

With a weary sigh, Kinch got up off the sofa tucking Williams' wallet inside his inner jacket pocket, and followed his commanding officer. As they left the house, Forbes turned to the Sergeant who had stopped LeBeau and Carter. "Sergeant, once everybody is finished inside, make sure this house is locked up tight and there's no need for any guards to remain. I want no indication anything's wrong here. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," the Sergeant replied.

"Also, Sergeant, I can't stress enough how important it is that what took place here not be discussed in any shape, manner, or form. And that's a direct order."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Carry on." He and the two guards exchanged salutes; then, Forbes and Kinch walked towards their waiting staff car which was parked at the curb and got in.

* * *

Desmond stormed into General Forbes outer office and slammed the door with such force that Captain Winger nearly jumped up out of her chair behind her desk. Knowing she was alone in the office made her nervous as she didn't like the Major nor the lustful looks he still gave her when he thought nobody was looking. She considered him a racist pig, and nothing like that gentleman, Captain James Kinchloe. Also, she disapproved of the way he treated Captain Kinchloe and the comments he made about him. She recalled the very first exchange when the General was in conference and she was busy typing the General's reports.

_**(Flashback):**_

_It was Captain Janice Winger's first day on the job as the new assistant for General Forbes, and she was feeling overwhelmed today of all days. But it wasn't because of the work; no, she was used to being a 'jack-of-all-trades' on her job. But it was her new boss, General Montgomery Forbes. While he wasn't a demanding man like her previous boss was, he was intimidating nonetheless. She momentarily let her eyes scan the waiting room, grateful there was only one person waiting to speak with the General. She let her eyes linger on the black Captain who at that precise moment, decided to return her stare with a pleasant, friendly smile on his handsome face. Somehow, that smile had a calming effect on her frazzled nerves. She smiled shyly back at him._

_Suddenly, the Captain got up from his seat and approached her desk, still smiling. "Hard day?" he asked._

"_Sort of," she replied. "It's my first day."_

_The Captain's eyebrows arched. "Really? I knew the General hired an assistant after his secretary decided to quit after she had a baby, but didn't you use to work for General Schaefer?"_

"_That was me. But when he retired, General Forbes was in need of an assistant and requested my services." She found it so easy to talk with this man. "My name's Winger. Janice Winger."_

_The Captain chuckled and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Captain Winger."_

"_Nice to meet you as well, Captain." She shook Kinch's hand noticing he had a firm grip. She leaned forward on her desk with her chin cupped in both hands. "What's General Forbes like? I hate to admit it, but he scares me."_

_Kinch chuckled. "Believe me, it's all an act. As his Senior Aide I know. He is not a tyrant by any means. But he does expect thoroughness from those under him, for a person to do their job, and above all, honesty. You lie to him or try and con him, and you're in big trouble. Keep those things in mind and you'll do fine."_

"_I will. Thanks." She noticed Kinch check his watch. "I can't wait any longer. Tell the General I'll come back later." He smiled warmly at the blond._

"_I will, Captain," she replied with a warm smile of her own at the handsome Captain who nodded briefly, turned, and walked quickly out of the office. Winger sighed as she watched the door close behind Kinch as thoughts she knew she shouldn't have filled her head. She sadly shook her head as the times being what they were didn't even permit something as innocent as having a cup of coffee with the Captain._

_She was suddenly brought out of her fantasies when the door opened, and an intimidating bully of a man with the insignias of a Major, stormed inside. When his cold eyes fell on the pretty, blue-eyed blond behind the desk, a shiver went down her spine. She hated the way his eyes raked over her body as if he was undressing her._

"_You must be new here," he said as he now stood in front of her desk with arms folded across his chest. "I don't recall seeing you here before, Captain…" he noticed her insignias and then her name tag. "….Winger. I'm Major Desmond."_

"_Pleased to meet you, Major," Winger replied softly. "If you're here to see General Forbes, he's in conference right now and I have no idea when he'll be finished. You can either wait or come back later." She was inwardly hoping the Major would leave as his proximity to her was making her feel uncomfortable for some reason she couldn't at the moment put her finger on. She watched as Desmond leaned forward on her desk with palms face downward; he brought his face close to hers._

"_You should be ashamed of yourself, you know. Throwing yourself at a nigger. And you being a white woman. Flirting with the trash. Disgraceful. Be a real shame if people here found out you had the hots for a nigger." He grinned when he saw Winger tense, but just as suddenly, her blue eyes flashed angrily. _

"_I have no idea to what you're referring to, Major. You're mistaken. And if you're talking about Captain Kinchloe, he is a fine and decent man, and I resent you using that kind of language in my presence and demand that you cease immediately or…."_

_Desmond leaned forward and brought his face a mere few inches from hers. "Or you'll what? Complain? Don't threaten me, girl. You think I don't know how fast you'd shed those clothes of yours for a roll in the hay with the good Captain? I've seen how you look at him. Now, I can always see what I know doesn't get out if you would come to my office after your day ends so we can uh….talk, and get to know each other better." He ran a finger up and down seductively over the back of her hand and wiggled his eyebrows. "If you know what I mean," he added. He gazed into her blue eyes with a look on his face indicating what he meant by 'getting to know each other better'. She inwardly cringed at the thought. Then, to Desmond's surprise, Winger got to her feet and stared with disgust at him, blue eyes blazing._

"_I don't need to complain to General Forbes or anybody else, Major. I can stand up to you myself. How** dare** you speak to me like that, and how dare you speak about Captain Kinchloe in that manner. Who do you think you are? What makes you think you're better than he is? Just so you know, Major, and I use the term loosely, Captain Kinchloe is a gentleman in every sense of the word, and I will not listen to that kind of language from anybody. And one last thing, don't you **ever** put your hands on me again in **any** manner or you'll be very sorry. Do we understand each other?" _

_Desmond could only stand up straight with his arms at his side; but his eyes bore into her. "Perfectly, Captain," he hissed._

"_Good," Winger replied calmly as she sat back down. "Now, as far as the General is concerned, as he's tied up indefinitely right now, I strongly suggest you leave and come back later."_

_Grinding his teeth in restrained anger, Desmond spun around and stormed out of the office, nearly slamming the door behind him. Once he was gone, Winger exhaled deeply to calm herself before she resumed her work._

"_Well done, Captain," said a voice from behind the woman. She spun around in her chair to find herself face-to-face with a grinning General Forbes. Winger, try as she might, couldn't stop her cheeks from turning red._

"_I apologize, General. I didn't think anyone heard. I tried to keep my voice low."_

"_No need to apologize. Just between the two of us, I thoroughly enjoyed Major Desmond being knocked down a peg or two."_

"_That man is a disgrace, sir. And the way he talks about Captain Kinchloe is disgusting and disgraceful."_

_Forbes smiled affectionately. "I know. But don't let Major Desmond unnerve you. Thankfully, there aren't too many like him who are so vocal with their dislike. In fact, why don't you take an early lunch and try and forget what happened."_

"_But, sir, I have a lot of typing still to do," Winger stated._

_Forbes folded his arms across his chest. "And it'll still be here when you get back. No rush. Now get going."_

_Winger smiled while not admitting the entire situation did still have her rattled. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." She reached into her bottom desk drawer, retrieved her pocketbook, and got to her feet. Smiling at her superior, Winger headed towards the door._

"_Oh, Captain Winger," Forbes called out causing the woman's hand to pause on the doorknob. She looked around._

"_Sir?"_

"_Thank you for sticking up for my senior aide," Forbes said with a knowing look on his face. _

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Since that time, Winger did her best never to be alone whenever she and the Major crossed paths. She didn't trust the man. But as she was alone in the office this time, she inwardly shuddered.

"Can I help you, Major Desmond?" she asked warily.

"I need to see General Forbes immediately," Desmond snarled at her, standing in front of her desk staring down at her.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the General isn't in his office at the moment."

"Where is he then?" the Major asked in a raised voice.

"He and Captain Kinchloe are out of the office right now. However, I do expect him back soon. You can either wait or come back later if you wish." Winger really hoped Desmond would simply leave.

"_Damn!_"Desmond muttered under his breath, but not soft enough that it wasn't overheard. "I'll wait," he announced, turning away without waiting for a response. Angrily, he sat down, his eyes following Winger's every move as she went about her work, and for a brief moment, he thought about what it would be like to have a few minutes of pleasure considering his current problems, teach Winger the lesson she so richly deserved after the verbal tongue-lashing she gave him the first time they met, and get rid of Captain Kinchloe. It was then a thought occurred to him where he could have all three. The Air Force would frown heavily on a black officer having an affair with a white woman. Kinch would be disgraced, probably arrested, and Winger he didn't give a damn about. To him, she was simply white trash. What he was thinking brought a devious grin to his face as he continued watching her from his chair. But just as quickly, that image was replaced with that of his earlier visitor and what he was ordered to do, and what might happen to him if he failed. _"All in good time," _he told himself.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 18**

Because of the bug found in Kinch's office, and not wanting to alert whoever might be listening, nor wanting to risk being disturbed because of the documents now in their possession, Forbes and Kinch were seated in one of the empty conference rooms. Both men were carefully reading and studying the toxicology reports of all four men who had been on the ill-fated transport that day. Once they had finished reading, the General rubbed his forehead.

"My God," he moaned. "What a horrible way to die. I pray Hogan and the others were either unconscious or dead before the crash." He looked at his aide sadly. "I'd hate to think he or any of the others were still alive when the plane went down knowing they were about to die and couldn't do a thing about it."

By looking into Kinch's eyes, Forbes could tell the man shared his thought. He tapped the reports on the table with a stiff finger. "These reports definitely prove that both Hogan and Major Bergman were probably overcome by carbon dioxide first, and that the pilots were soon incapacitated as well, so that by the time they encountered the thunderstorm, the pilots were unable to fly above or around it," he explained.

"And because the pilots couldn't respond," Kinch continued, "The plane got too close to the thunderstorm and was struck by lightning resulting in electrical failure. The loss of cabin pressure combined with the carbon dioxide was enough to either kill everybody who wasn't yet dead, or causing them to black out before the crash." He inhaled and exhaled through his nose. "That's it then," he said wearily. "Everybody on that transport died because somebody wanted General Hogan dead, and didn't care who else was with him." He ran both hands down his face before turning to Forbes. "This leaves no doubt whatsoever. It also shows why somebody didn't want these reports found. They would prove what we suspected beyond a doubt that the crash was no accident."

Kinch massaged his forehead as he felt a headache coming on. _"Now I understand why the General would get the headaches he got,"_ Kinch told himself. _"It's because of situations like this." _He sighed. "First thing we need to do is make copies of these toxicology reports. The originals need to be sent to Walter Reed and the copies put in our files. But it's important that you have a set as well as myself and the others, just in case something happens to the copies in our files or the originals."

"Good idea," Forbes said. "You have any ideas after reading these as to how to proceed?"

Kinch sighed wearily. "I have an idea as to how we might be able to lure Major Desmond out into the open at least. And if he's involved as I suspect he is, he can possibly lead us to the others, and we can use that bug in my office to do it. But I have to think a few things over first before proceeding. That's why I think until that time it's better if we need to talk we meet either in your office or in one of the conference rooms. I don't want whoever's listening to suspect anything until it's show time. But right now we need to come up with a reason as to why there is no activity in my office."

"I think we can handle that," Forbes explained. "Why don't I call you in your office and say you're needed for a series of all-day meetings every day until you're ready to proceed with your plan. This way whoever's listening hopefully won't become suspicious."

"That could work, sir," Kinch replied with an amused grin. "You're beginning to sound like the General with his planning during our POW days." He chuckled.

Forbes smirked. "Thanks. I can't think of any higher compliment than to be compared to Hogan in that way." Then, a deep frown appeared as he became serious again. "I still can't believe that Major Desmond would agree to help somebody kill Hogan because he was upset that the General cost him a timely promotion and had an official reprimand put in his folder." He looked at Kinch with a shake of his head. "I mean, I know he hates you because he's a racist; but I never imagined he hated Hogan that much as to want him dead."

Kinch leaned back in his chair, pyramiding his fingertips in front of him. "I just remembered something."

"What's that?" asked Forbes.

Kinch's eyes narrowed. "Originally, I was suppose to be on that transport with the General instead of Major Bergman. That day in the elevator, Major Desmond said it was too bad I wasn't on the plane with the General because then he could have been rid of both of us, but instead he'd have to make due with only being rid of the General, and it was just a matter of time before he was rid of me as well."

Forbes looked puzzled. "So you told me. What exactly are you driving at?"

"What if the Major knew both the General and I were to be on the transport that day, and was caught by surprise to find out afterwards that I didn't accompany the General as originally planned. What if the original plan was only to kill General Hogan; everybody else on the plane was considered collateral damage to those responsible, including me if I had gone. But not to Desmond."

"Let me see if I understand this. You're saying Hogan was the intended target from the beginning with these people, but Desmond saw an opportunity to get rid of you as well as Hogan so he agreed to help. But things went astray when at the last minute Major Bergman replaced you on the transport."

Kinch nodded. "You got it. These people haven't made any move on me whatsoever. If I was a target as well, they would have tried already. The fact that I'm still here verifies that. Only Desmond is intent on getting me so whoever is behind this could've promised him to include me in the plan as a means of assuring his cooperation for their purposes."

Forbes seemed to accept Kinch's explanation. "But what about that threat LeBeau heard on the telephone and Newkirk being shot by the man who killed General Butler?"

"General, back at Stalag 13, Jack Williams was always a bit of a loose cannon so to speak. He was very volatile and always acted without thinking. And he disliked Newkirk intensely as well as then Colonel Hogan. My guess, he was probably watching General Butler and when he saw Newkirk he couldn't resist the urge to get back at him. As for General Butler, I suspect he became a target because he must've been conducting some kind of investigation into the crash on his own and was getting too close." He paused for a moment before continuing. "In Stalag 13, we took our orders from General Butler, and I know he and the Colonel were close. I suspect after the crash, General Butler would want to know if after considering the enemies General Hogan made during that time of the people he sent to London, whether any of them might have somehow been responsible for what happened."

Forbes leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed in front of him. "I know I've said this before, but I'm going to say it again hoping you'll change your mind finally. It appears these people are willing to kill whoever gets too close as they did with General Butler. Kinch, you are the one of the finest men I have ever known, and the best aide I have ever had, and I don't want to lose you. I really wish you would reconsider letting me have an official investigation re-opened before you end up like General Butler. Look what nearly happened to Newkirk."

Kinch was quiet for several minutes and looked pensive causing Forbes to think maybe, just maybe, he had finally gotten through to the man. He watched as the Captain smiled warmly at him.

"Thank you for the compliments, sir, but I can't in all honesty do what you want, and I know neither would Peter, Louis or Andrew. We can't let this go."

"Can you at least explain to me why not?"

"I think so. First, we know some of the players involved, but that isn't the main reason. See, at Stalag 13 the five of us were more than just POWs; we were even more than very close friends; we were a family. General Hogan looked after us and even though he ordered us not to, we looked after him. We would have given our lives for him and he for us. Even after the war, he still considered us his responsibility and he was ours although we couldn't tell him that. If we were to give up our investigation now because things were getting dicey as Newkirk would say, we'd feel like we were turning our backs on the General by letting somebody else handle things because we don't want to get hurt. And we can't do that, General. Even in death the General's still our responsibility. Somebody took him away from us and we want them to be held accountable." Kinch exhaled deeply. "I didn't mean to be so long-winded, but I just wanted to explain our reasoning as succinctly as possible."

Forbes smiled warmly. "I do understand. Hogan meant a lot to you and the others. He was one of my closest friends, and I understand that kind of loyalty among a commander and his men. And it's a very rare thing for that kind of loyalty to continue when those same men part company after the conflict which brought them together to begin with. Okay, I'll let you continue for now against my better judgment. But just be careful, and tell the others to be careful as well."

"I will, sir. And thank you."

Forbes nodded and started getting to his feet. "Okay, let's make copies of the toxicology reports, and then check on Newkirk."

* * *

For the last ninety minutes, Captain Winger had kept an eye on Major Desmond. She was doing her best to ignore the despicable man, but feeling his eyes on her every minute made it somewhat impossible. But she considered the outer office her domain, and she intended to remain in control. Also, she suspected the man enjoyed seeing someone show fear of him, and that she had no intention of doing. Winger wasn't fooling herself where Desmond was concerned. She knew exactly what type of man he was, and it both disgusted and angered her. If anything, she would have preferred him to leave once he heard General Forbes was out of the office, but since that didn't look likely, she would just have to make the best of a bad situation. After sitting back down, she resumed her typing.

Fortunately, as nothing had happened after the first hour of waiting, she began to relax just a bit. But from the corner of her eye, she suddenly noticed the Major get to his feet and approach her desk. She looked up from her typing as the Major leaned forward with palms flat on her desk.

"Did General Forbes say anything about where he may have gone? I have things to do and can't sit here all day."

"I'm sorry, sir, but other than he and Captain Kinchloe are out of the building, I have no idea as to where they went. I can take a message if you'd like." She purposely omitted they wouldn't be back anytime soon.

She watched Desmond debating what to do when the phone rang. Picking up the receiver, she pressed it against her ear. "General Forbes office. Yes, General. No, sir, there are no messages, but Major Desmond is waiting to speak with you. Do you know when you'll return? Yes, sir, I'll tell him. Goodbye, sir." Hanging up, Winger looked up at Desmond who now was wearing a scowl on his face. "I'm sorry, Major, but General Forbes said to tell you he is unable to meet with you today, but he is in the building and that he and Captain Kinchloe are in a meeting with the new Air Force Chief-of-Staff, and will be tied up for most of the day. He also said to tell you if when he returns to the office it's not too late, he will call you and try to fit you in then. If not, he will meet with you tomorrow if he's able."

"What's happening tomorrow?" Desmond asked recalling the words of the man who visited him earlier today.

"The General and Captain Kinchloe will both be in a meeting with the Chief-of-Staff tomorrow."

Desmond, while disappointed at being unable to speak with the General, decided not to let this opportunity go to waste without having succeeded at something. Leaning forward, he leered at Winger with lust in his eyes. "So he's not going to be back today? What a shame." He was about to lean over further when luckily for Winger the phone rang again; she instantly picked up the receiver. "General Forbes office. Yes, Captain Kinchloe," she said with a slight smile appearing which didn't go unnoticed by Desmond. He ground his jaw in building anger watching the young woman pick up a pen, grab a pad, and began to write something down. "I understand, sir. I'll pull these reports and have them waiting for you. Goodbye, sir."

Hanging up, she picked up the pad and started to rise from her chair when in one quick, fluid motion, Desmond was behind her desk and roughly grabbed her wrist causing her to drop her pad. "I didn't forget where we left off before the phone rang, Janice," he said. "And there's nobody here but the two of us."

"Let go of my wrist, Major, or I'll scream so loudly they'll hear me in the Chief-of-Staff's office upstairs." When Desmond didn't release her, she tried to jerk her wrist free but couldn't.

"Captain Kinchloe will be here in any minute in case you've forgotten," she reminded him while struggling to get free from his vise-like grip on her wrist.

"You'd give it up for that nigger Captain you have the hots for if he asked for it, but not for your own kind, you little slut!" he hissed, expecting to see fear on her face, and was stunned to see anger instead.

With blue eyes blazing, she instinctively lashed out with her free hand catching Desmond unawares, her palm connecting with his face with a resounding 'thwack.' But the minute she made contact Winger knew she had made a mistake. The look of white hot rage on the Major's face terrified her.

"_You little bitch!_" the Major shouted seconds before his fist made contact with her jaw snapping her head back sharply and as he let her go, her body fell to the floor but not before the back of her head struck the corner of her desk before she landed on the floor in a crumpled heap, a pool of blood forming under her head. Breathing heavily, Desmond stood over her looking down.

Then, knowing he didn't have time to enjoy himself for even a few minutes, he knelt down beside her, grabbed the front of her uniform shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere, exposing the white bra underneath along with smooth, flawless white skin. He then grabbed the hem of her skirt and with an effort, ripped it, exposing one creamy thigh above a stocking. He then got to his feet and stared down at the crumpled body lying at his feet. Not knowing when Kinch would arrive and not wanting to take the chance of lingering too long, he practically ran from the office. The last thing he needed was to be caught standing over an unconscious and bleeding Winger. Besides, he had other things to do.

* * *

By the time Kinch and Forbes reached the General's office, Kinch leaned against the wall across from the office. They had made copies of the toxicology reports and Forbes had wanted to lock his copy in his wall safe before the two men left for the hospital. Forbes grabbed the doorknob and glanced back at his aide.

"You sure you don't want to drop off your briefcase in your office while I lock my copy of the report in my wall safe? Seems silly to carry it around with you," Forbes said with an amused grin on his face.

Smirking, Kinch shook his head. "No thanks. Considering how valuable these reports are I'd feel better having them with me." He watched his superior open the door and suddenly pale at the sight which met his eyes. Concerned, Kinch came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. Both men stared at the unconscious woman lying on the floor. After a few seconds in which Forbes didn't recall moving his feet, he suddenly found himself kneeling beside Winger and pressing two fingers against her throat checking for a pulse, and was relieved to find a steady one, while Kinch grabbed the phone and called for security and then called for an ambulance. Both men then noticed the cut to Winger's lower lip and the deep bruise forming on her cheek. But it was the bleeding wound on the back of her head that concerned both men the most from the amount of blood on the carpeted floor under her head.

Removing his uniform jacket, Forbes carefully draped it across the woman's body covering her upper body and partially covering her below the waist. He then gently placed one hand on each side of her face.

"Janice? Can you hear me? It's General Forbes. Janice!" He got no response from the woman.

"What's happened here?" a voice asked as a security team appeared just inside the office taking in the scene before them. Forbes looked over his shoulder at the man who appeared to be the team leader.

"Sergeant, I want you to search this entire floor and have the building locked down. Someone attacked Captain Winger and I don't want him to get away. Also have one of your men downstairs to escort the ambulance attendants up here! Move!"

"Yes, sir." The Sergeant ordered his men to begin searching while he got on the phone and after making a call ordered the building to be locked down per General Forbes direct orders.

"General," Kinch was now kneeling opposite his superior. "We both know who did this," he said with anger in his eyes.

Forbes looked over at Kinch. "We have no proof it was Desmond. As far as we know it could have been one of the parties who were responsible for Hogan's death who did this. Maybe she accidentally stumbled across something or someone related to Hogan's death."

"And Desmond is one of those people," Kinch reminded the General quietly as he noticed ambulance attendants entering the office. He motioned to the General to move aside so the attendants could work on the woman. Standing out of the way, Kinch swore to himself Desmond now had two people he had to answer for: Captain Janice Winger, and General Robert Hogan.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 19**

LeBeau was seated on the foot of the bed while Carter closer to a grumpy Peter Newkirk who was mumbling under his breath as the doctor who examined him, had insisted on keeping the Englander hospitalized for at least seventy-two hours, especially after LeBeau had revealed to the doctor that Newkirk had suffered from dizziness earlier and had blacked out.

"How do you feel, mon ami?" LeBeau asked the Englander, still worried.

"Don't talk to me, you miserable traitor," Newkirk growled. He really wasn't angry with the little Frenchman, but being confined to the hospital was not what he had in mind at this precise moment. "You didn't have to tell the ruddy doctor about the dizziness and blacking out."

"Then you will just have to be angry with me, Pierre. You were wounded and would have been an easy target for whoever came after us. Surely you can see that."

"All I can see is…." Newkirk began but was stopped by Carter.

"Cut it out, both of you. Can't you see we were worried about you?" he asked Newkirk. "Jeez, if something had happened to you we would never have forgiven ourselves. Besides, you're stuck here until the doctor says otherwise so just get used to it and enjoy it."

"You heard the man," a voice said. Turning their attention in the direction of the door, the guys spotted Kinch standing just inside the doorway. "How do you feel, Newkirk?" he asked.

"Me arm hurts a bit, but otherwise I'm all right," Newkirk said looking at his friend. "Should be right as rain in no time." He gestured between Carter and LeBeau. "But these two managed to convince the ruddy doctor to keep me here. How 'bout pulling some strings and gettin' me out of here?"

Kinch, with hands clasped behind his back, slowly walked further into the room and approached the bed in which the Englander sat, and sighed wearily. "How long will you be here?" he asked.

"Not long," Newkirk lied.

"How long, Newkirk?" Kinch asked again, trying to pin his friend down.

"The doctor said at least three days," Carter interjected quickly.

Newkirk gave Carter a dirty look. "You didn't have to tell him that, y'know," he replied in frustration, then looked at Kinch in defeat. "That's what the doctor said."

Kinch nodded. "Then three days is what you'll spend in here unless the doctor decides otherwise." He smirked. "You try sneaking out of here before time and I'll have you bound and gagged and locked in the stockade."

Newkirk heard snickers from both LeBeau and Carter and shot them both dirty looks. "You can't do that, mate," he told Kinch smugly. "I'm not in the military anymore, least of all yours, remember?"

"I'll make an exception just for you," Kinch told him. His face then softened a bit. "Besides, what kind of friends would we be if we didn't still look out for each other? You know as well as we do that the General, were he still alive, would say the same thing. Also, the more rest you get, the quicker you can get out of here."

"Right," Newkirk reluctantly agreed. He knew his friends were right, but wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of agreeing with them. He suddenly noticed a sadness in Kinch's eyes he hadn't seen since Hogan's death. "What's troubling you, mate?"

"Nothing," Kinch replied softly. He knew even after all this time, he still hadn't acquired Hogan's expertise of keeping his emotions in check.

"C'mon, Kinch," Newkirk continued. "This is your mates you're talking to. Now something's bothering you. Talk to us."

Kinch sighed as he wrapped his arms around himself similar to what Hogan often did. "General Forbes and I found his assistant, Captain Winger, on the floor unconscious with her clothes torn. Looked like whoever attacked her tried to sexually assault her but doesn't appear to have had time, but we're not sure."

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the Frenchman, his eyes wide. "Is she all right?" He remembered meeting the beautiful blond-haired, blue-eyed woman once when he and the others had gone back to the Pentagon with Kinch.

"She's still unconscious," Kinch explained. "Seems she hit her head on the corner of her desk. She was bleeding a lot from the back of her head. The General stayed with her while she was being examined by a doctor, but suggested I check on Newkirk instead of both of us sitting around waiting for word."

"Any ideas who might've done it?" asked Newkirk.

"Only one. Major Desmond."

"But why would he do that?" asked Carter. "I mean, what did she ever do to him?"

Kinch sighed wearily. "The answer to both your questions is I don't know. But I have my suspicions." He bowed his head and shook it sadly.

LeBeau, who had been watching his friend closely, let a grin cross his face. "You are attracted to her, non?"

Kinch looked up with a look of surprise on his face. "What? No….I mean, I'm concerned about her, yes. But there's no truth to what you just said."

"Mon ami, I am French and we know amour when we see it. You have the same look on your face the Colonel had whenever he spoke of Cassandra when she was alive."

"Congratulations," Carter said with a wide smile at the news.

"Nice going, Kinch. She's a gorgeous bird, she is," added Newkirk with a grin.

"Stop right there," Kinch urged his friends, holding up his hands. "Doesn't matter how I feel or how she feels because it'll never work. Not the way things are these days. One of us would have to leave the military for us to be together, and even if that happened, you all know how things are racially. There are people who would never accept us being together for many reasons other than the obvious. Besides, there's no proof she feels the same way anyway."

Newkirk's eyebrows shot upward. "No proof?" He chuckled. "Blimey, all one has to do is see the way she looks at you, mate. She's hooked."

"Besides, mon ami, don't be so quick to turn your back on amour just because you are both two different races. The heart wants what it wants and does not dictate who it falls in love with. Besides, you deserve to be happy as much as the next person. And those who frown on such a relationship because of race should be ashamed."

"LeBeau's right," Carter added. "At least give it a chance before you dismiss it."

"Oui. If she is the one, don't let her get away."

Kinch desperately wanted to change the subject. "Right now we have more important things to think about, and that is finding out who killed the General. He looked at the Frenchman. "LeBeau, did you ever hear from Marya regarding the General's involvement in the Cold war and whether he made any enemies with his participation in it?"

"Oui, she did call back and told Andre and I a little about the Berlin Blockade and that the Colonel did not make any enemies between 1948 and 1949. But she said you could further explain about the Berlin Airlift and the Colonel's involvement." He paused for a moment. "Didn't you participate in the airlift with him?"

Looking around, Kinch spotted a chair near the wall, grabbed it, and positioned it close to the head of the bed and sat down. As the details came back to him, Kinch began to talk about the Berlin Airlift, and his and Hogan's part in it.

"We both did. But I best start at the beginning."

_**(Flashback):**_

_The year was 1948, and although World War Two was over, the Western Powers (France, Great Britain, the United States), and the Soviet Union, began to rebuild Germany, it soon became apparent to the first three that the Soviet Union's plan for rebuilding differed from theirs. In fact, Joseph Stalin wanted the others out of Germany completely. So, on April 9, 1948, Stalin had ordered all American Military personnel maintaining communications equipment out of the Soviet controlled sector of Berlin; and on June 24, in a final move to force the Allies out completely, the Berlin Blockade was established. But the Allies, refusing to tolerate such a thing, immediately began making plans to break the blockade. But as invasions would result in placing World War 3 on the brink of existence, another means of breaking the blockade had to be found and quickly._

_It was then an alternative plan was devised: supply the city by air. But how to supply the 2,008, 943 Berliners with food and supplies was a much greater problem than supplying the Occupation forces. General Lucius Clay called on General Curtis LeMay, commander of the USAFE and asked if there was a way to haul supplies to Berlin. Two days later, LeMay contacted Brigadier General Joseph Smith, Commander of the Wiesbaden Military Post, appointing him Task Force Commander of an airlift operation estimated to last several weeks.(1) General Smith immediately thought of one man in particular who had been dropping hints to resume flying again despite his recent promotion to Brigadier, and would be a valuable asset to the operation._

_But then another problem arose. It was determined over 3400 tons of supplies would be needed daily to supply all the people of Berlin, and the C-47 Skytrain could only carry 3.5 tons, causing the C-47s to have to make at least 1,000 flights daily, and that was an impossibility. There had to be a better way to accomplish what had to be done. So on June 27th__, Generals Clay and LeMay ordered the larger C-54 Skymasters to Berlin._

"_So, what do you think, Hogan? Lieutenant?" General LeMay asked Brigadier General Robert Hogan and his aide and former navigator, Lt. James Kinchloe, as they looked over the plans laid out in front of them on the table for the growing operation using the C-54s in order to meet the supply of the city and its people. "Knowing your capabilities as a pilot, General, and yours as a navigator, Lieutenant, we could use both of you on this mission. Interested?"_

_Hogan hadn't flown since he was shot down over Germany during World War Two, and a was a former bomber pilot commander. But now he was being asked to take part in the airlift. Only this time Hogan wouldn't be in charge, but would be one of many participants flying in supplies.(2)_

"_I'd be honored, sir," was Hogan's reply. He glanced sideways at his aide knowing he couldn't speak for the man. "How about you, Kinch?"_

_Kinch smirked. "You didn't think you'd be flying a C-54 without your navigator, now did you, sir?" He saw Hogan grin before turning his attention again to LeMay._

_LeMay patted the younger man on the back. "Glad to have you both aboard." He sighed. "We have no idea how long this blockade will last, so be prepared to fly repeated missions."_

_Hogan and Kinch were not familiar with the C-54 Skymaster which was a four-engine transport aircraft with a capacity to carry ten tons of supplies, and were eager to get started. It didn't take them long to familiarize themselves with the plane and its capabilities. Then, over the next few months, he and Kinch flew the transport and helped deliver over 1,534 tons of food daily to keep over two million people alive. They continued to do so until the blockade ended on May 12, 1949. But the Berlin Airlift wasn't without it's risks and casualties. A total of 101 fatalities were recorded as a result of the operation._

Kinch sighed as he wrapped up his story. "We both received the Cheney Award for our participation in the operation in 1949," he said. "The General, while very proud of our contribution to helping save those people from possible starvation and hardship, felt it was the least we could do as our way of giving back to Germany after the war and wasn't happy receiving an award for it."(3)

"Wow," Carter said in awe. "I never knew both of you were involved in the airlift. I always thought the Colonel helped only to plan it with your help."

"Oui. So did I. I mean, I knew something of it as France was involved, but I'm sure Colonel Hogan was proud to be able to give something back to the good German people after our sabotage took so much from them as well as the bad Germans." He paused. "Unfortunately sometimes good people get hurt along with the bad ones. That is the price of war."

"Blimey," Newkirk muttered. "The Gov'nor told me in a letter he always felt a mite guilty over the sabotage we did while at Stalag 13, and that he felt he had to say yes when he was asked to fly supplies into Berlin. But he only mentioned you receiving this Cheney Award."

"That's probably because he was embarrassed to receive it," said Kinch. "I think it was one of the few awards he didn't want, but could not refuse. He was promoted to Major General months after his participation in the airlift and I was promoted to First Lieutenant. And although he was proud of the promotion, he wasn't proud of the reason he thought was behind why he got it."

LeBeau sighed. "But he was very proud of your promotion because of it," he said looking at the Captain with affection. "I know he always got pleasure seeing you receive awards and getting ahead in the Air Force."

"I know he did," Kinch said softly. "And I hope he knew how proud I was to see him get the recognition from the brass he so richly deserved but never got while in Stalag 13."

LeBeau smiled. "He knew, mon ami. Trust me when I say, he knew."

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Desmond didn't talk to anybody he ran into as he made his way back to his office, and once there, silently entered and closed the door. As he sat down behind his desk, he shook his hand trying to take the sting out of it. He looked at his knuckles and noticed the bruises forming where they had connected with Captain Winger's jaw.

He hadn't wanted to strike her, but when she slapped his face all he saw was white hot rage and had an uncontrollable desire to lash out and inflict pain. _"Served her right anyhow,"_ he told himself. _"Fawning over a piece of trash."_ He clenched and unclenched his hand before picking up his pen and turning his attention to the reports which had been on his desk before he left earlier. He remembered the earlier warning of his visitor and what he might do once he heard what had happened, so, he would have to act quickly to make sure someone else took the blame for what happened to that 'poor' girl. Needing something from inside his middle desk drawer, Desmond yanked it open it and immediately noticed the folder he kept inside. Removing it, he opened it and gazed again at the contents, his face turning a deep shade of crimson when he re-read the contents.

"This will never see the light of day if I have anything to say about it," he mumbled partially to himself. He jammed the folder back in his middle desk drawer and slammed the drawer shut before returning to the reports on the desk in front of him.

* * *

Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau were still gathered in Newkirk's room exchanging information and as of now, each of them was up-to-date as far as everything went.

"One thing still bothers me," Carter said with a puzzled expression.

"And what might that be?" asked Kinch.

"Why would Schmidt kill Morrison? I mean, what could Morrison have possibly done?"

"Andre's right," LeBeau chimed in. "We have only speculated as to why he was killed." He looked at the Englander. "Perhaps your friend Robin will have some information for us when he calls next time."

"Hope so anyway," Newkirk said with a sigh. "About the only thing I know for sure was that after the war, Morrison went to work for the bleedin' CIA. But I have no bloody idea if he was still with 'em or not when he was killed."

"I just had a terrible thought," LeBeau gasped. "What if he calls while you are in here? Since he is your contact, he may not talk to us and keep whatever information he has to himself until he can speak with you?" He was looking at Newkirk.

Newkirk smirked. "No need to worry, mate. I squared it with Robin some time ago that if the four of us were ever together, and for some reason I wasn't available, he could talk to any one of you as if you were talkin' to me."

Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk turned their attention to Kinch who seemed lost in thought.

"Something wrong, mon ami?"

"I was just thinking," said Kinch crossing his legs and folding his arms. "There would be no motive for Schmidt to kill Morrison but for two reasons. One, for the undercover work he did as Major Teppel during the war; and two, he was still working for the CIA, and somehow found out something about the plot against General Hogan. And considering the timing, and the condition of the body when it was found from what Newkirk's contact told him, I think it's highly likely Morrison found out something either accidentally, or during the course of an investigation. We won't know for sure until Robin calls back." He looked around hearing a sound and spotted General Forbes slowly walking into the room, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets and head slightly bowed. Seeing their friend's expression, the others looked at the General as well.

"How is Captain Winger, mon General?" asked LeBeau.

Forbes exhaled though his nose and had a pained expression on his face. "I just spoke to the examining doctor. She has a scalp laceration on the back of her head and is bleeding into her brain. They're preparing her for surgery as we speak. I'm afraid it doesn't look good right now." Forbes' eyes turned to his Senior Aide's face with a look of seriousness. "Answer me truthfully. Do you really believe Major Desmond is responsible for what happened to Captain Winger?"

"Yes, I do," Kinch said without a moment's hesitation.

"You answered very quickly," Forbes replied.

"That's because I have no doubt as to his culpability."

The General sighed as he nodded his head. "Okay. So how do you plan to catch him?"

Kinch glanced at his friends for a minute. "I'd still like to think things over before I do anything. This has to be planned and executed carefully. Other than the Major, we're dealing with dangerous people to whom killing is second nature. We need to be careful how we go about this." He saw the pain in the General's eyes. "But I understand how you feel, sir," he added softly.

The General inhaled and exhaled deeply. "I'm going back to the waiting room and wait for Captain Winger to come out of surgery. I'll let you know if I hear anything. Kinch, I may not be in the office tomorrow, depending on the outcome of the Captain's surgery. If not, and you need anything tomorrow, just tell them you're acting on direct orders from me. But should you need to contact me, you can reach me here or at home."

"Yes, sir," said Kinch. He then watched his superior turn and walk out the door and head back in the direction from which he had just come.

Carter watched the General leave the room before looking at the others.

"What's wrong, Carter?" asked Newkirk, seeing the sad look in his friend's eyes.

Carter shrugged. "I'm not sure. It's just that for awhile, it's felt like the five of us together again. You, me, LeBeau, Kinch, and the Colonel."

The others all exchanged understanding looks with each other as what Carter had said felt like déjà vu to them as well whether or not they realized it until then.

* * *

(1) USAFE is the U.S. Air Force in Europe.

(2)The Berlin Airlift was to fly in supplies and food to West Berliners as a means of overcoming the blockade. A total of 101 fatalities, most of them as a result of crashes, occurred during the airlift. Thirty-one of them were Americans.

(3)The Cheney Award was named after First Lieutenant William Cheney, who was killed in Italy in 1918. It was established in 1927, and is awarded to an airman for an act of valor, extreme fortitude, or self sacrifice in a humanitarian interest, performed in connection with aircraft, but not necessarily of a military nature. Courtesy of Wikipedia.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Chapter 20**_

It was late in the evening by the time Kinch, LeBeau and Carter returned to the hotel. But before they left the hospital, they first promised Newkirk they would stop by and visit again the next day when they had a chance; then, they stopped by to check on the status of Captain Winger, and were told by Forbes that she was still in surgery and was holding her own so far. After informing the General they were returning to the hotel, they all asked that the General contact them as soon as there was any word and then departed.

Having decided room service would suffice as they were all too exhausted to go out and eat, the guys entered the hotel. As they neared the information desk, the manager behind the desk spotted them, and waved them over. Seeing him, the small trio made their way to the desk. Watching them come closer, the man turned and removed one envelope from a slot along with a folded slip of paper, and turning again, handed both of them to Kinch.

"Both of these came in for a Mr. Peter Newkirk," he said handing them to Kinch. "I haven't seen Mr. Newkirk since earlier today, and he's not here now. But knowing the four of you are together I figured it was all right to give these to you."

After thanking the manager, Kinch unfolded the paper and read it's contents with Carter and LeBeau trying to look over his shoulders. "It's from Newkirk's contact in MI6. He's been trying to reach us most of the day and wants Peter to call him." He then ripped open the envelope which had no return address and found it contained a single photo of a wall mirror.

"That looks like a wall mirror," said Carter, perplexed.

"Good guess, Carter," said LeBeau sarcastically. Then he became serious. "Why would somebody send Newkirk a photo of a wall mirror?" he asked.

"I don't know," began Kinch looking closely at the envelope as if it held the answer. It didn't, but that wasn't what nagged at the Captain. "But I feel I should know this handwriting." He looked at his two friends. "C'mon, let's get upstairs so we can return this call to Robin and see what he's got to report. It's been a long day for all of us." That said, the Captain tiredly trudged in the direction of the elevators with Carter and LeBeau just behind him.

Once they reached the hotel room belonging to Newkirk and Carter, Kinch dropped his briefcase into a nearby chair and, after removing his outer coat, dropped it on top of the briefcase. Then he again grabbed his briefcase and after opening it, removed four thin sets of papers, each set stapled separately and closed his briefcase again. He walked to the sofa and plopped down beside LeBeau while Carter was heard on the phone ordering their food. Kinch handed the Frenchman two of the stapled sets.

"What are these?" LeBeau asked before glancing at the papers he was handed. "Sacre Chats," he suddenly exclaimed glancing at the contents of the first page.

"These are the missing toxicology reports on the General and the others." Kinch went about telling LeBeau how they ended up with them and where they were found. "The originals are safely en-route to Walter Reed and the prepared copies of these are now in the Pentagon's files where they should have been all along.

LeBeau, who had been reading his copy, looked over at his friend, shock evident on his face. "How horrible for the Colonel," he said. "And while I do not understand everything written here, it appears he was either dead or dying when his plane crashed."

Then he, Carter, and LeBeau chose what they wanted to eat from the room service menu, and LeBeau called in their orders.

"What are you guys talking about?" Carter asked sitting on the opposite side of Kinch on the sofa. He accepted two duplicate sets of papers from Kinch who quickly pointed out what they were and gave a capsule summary of what they had been talking about. Carter's face instantly changed.

"Boy, for the Colonel's sake, and I know this sounds heartless, but I sure hope he was dead before his plane crashed. I'd hate to think he knew what was about to happen and there was nothing he could do."

"So would I, mon ami," LeBeau agreed readily as he rejoined the duo after hanging up the phone. "Room service will be here as soon as possible."

"Each of you is to keep a set of this report. Carter, I gave you two as one is for Newkirk. General Forbes also has one as do I. Considering somebody tried to make sure the originals were never found, the General and I both thought it wise if we all had a copy just in case the originals get destroyed or the Pentagon's copies disappeared for good this time. So, put them some place safe." LeBeau went through the adjoining door to the room he shared with Kinch while Carter went into the bedroom he shared with Newkirk, and both men went about searching for and finding what they hoped would be safe hiding places for the reports. Within a few minutes, both men were back on the sofa as Kinch was studying the photo of the wall mirror, a puzzled look on his face.

"Unable to figure out why that photo was sent to Pierre?" asked LeBeau.

Kinch rubbed his chin. "Yeah. Obviously somebody thought it was important enough to send it to Newkirk for a reason, but for the life of me I can't figure out why."

"What's so important about a wall mirror anyway?" asked Carter taking the photo from his friend's fingers and studying it. "Maybe Newkirk might recognize it?" he asked handing it back.

"It's possible," Kinch said looking at the photo again. He sighed and tucked the photo inside his jacket pocket. "We'll show it to him when we visit him in the hospital tomorrow." He then removed the slip of paper from his pocket. "I'd better phone Robin and see what he has. This paper made whatever it is sound important." Getting to his feet, Kinch walked over to the telephone and dialed. He let it ring for a while and was about to hang up when someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Robin? It's Captain Kinchloe."

"I say, Captain. Jolly good hearing from you. But I was expecting Peter."

"Yeah, well, he's been injured and is in the hospital. Not to worry, though, it's nothing serious. But your message sounded important."

"Oh dear. Please give Peter my best will you, old boy? He's a good man and a good friend. He told me about your investigation. So sorry to hear about Hogan. He was a good man. Anyway, Peter asked me to check on a few things for you chaps and so I did, and I now have the information requested. Shall I give it to you instead?"

"Yes. Peter's going to be laid up for about three days and we're in the middle of our investigation."

"Very well, then. Here's what I can tell you." Kinch listened carefully to the information given to him paying close attention to every word. There was a knock on the door causing him to turn around as LeBeau got to his feet and approached the door; it turned out to be room service with their food. As he continued listening to Robin, Kinch watched the cart rolled into their room and LeBeau hand the man some money before he smiled at the trio and left the room.

A few minutes later, Kinch sat down at the table and joined them.

"What is wrong, mon ami?" asked LeBeau. "Did Robin say something to upset you?"

"In a way. Seems like this conspiracy may be connected to our Stalag 13 days. We can't just yet eliminate the General's involvement in the Korean War however. Robin's waiting for a phone call from someone before he gets back to us about the General's involvement between 1950 and 1953." Kinch sighed. "Of course I was with the General during that time, and I'm pretty sure he made no enemies during that time. But if he had, he may not have told me because he knew I'd worry. But regarding Morrison, after the war, he was recruited by the CIA and was on loan to MI6. The brass in London were very impressed with his charade as Major Teppel with the Abwehr, and when they wanted someone special for a delicate situation, they asked to borrow Morrison from the CIA."

"I still don't get it," Carter said. "What could be so important that MI6 couldn't have one of their own agents handle it? I mean, why ask for Morrison at all?"

Kinch sighed. "They wanted Morrison because he knew the parties involved after a rumor had come to the attention of MI6."

LeBeau paused as a nagging fear began to permeate his body. "What rumor was that?"

Kinch exhaled through his nose. "Two former prisoners we sent to London while at Stalag 13 had fallen off the grid after the war. It was then MI6 was contacted by a source who claimed that of the two former prisoners who had fallen off the grid, one of them, while a prisoner, was rumored to have been recruiting other prisoners to join him in getting revenge against General Hogan."

"Mon Dieu!" said a stunned Frenchman. "What else did he say?"

"Two of the men supposedly recruited by these two were Schmidt, and Jack Williams." Kinch noticed the jaws of both his friends drop open.

"So how does Morrison fit in?" asked Carter.

"Well, it was Morrison's job to find out one, if the rumor was true; two, find Schmidt and Williams; and three, if possible, to locate the two men who recruited them. But apparently, and there's no way to find out how it happened, Morrison was exposed and Schmidt caught and tortured him hoping to find out who else knew and how much he and whoever he was working for knew. But Morrison apparently wouldn't talk and Schmidt killed him."

"Who was the animal who recruited them?" asked LeBeau. "Does MI6 know?"

"That's the troubling part," Kinch explained sadly. "it's believed Morrison may have found out definitely, but died before he could pass on the information. But from what Robin explained, the two who have not been seen since their days as prisoners are Bruno Decker aka Robin Hood, and the former Luftwaffe Captain Daerik Kurtz." He then watched his friends to see their reactions to this news.(1)

"Baise!" hissed LeBeau angrily. "Wasn't that Captain Kurtz Burkhalter's brother-in-law if memory serves."

"He was," Kinch said. "And I believe it's possible that this Kurtz may be the organizer of this conspiracy and probably recruited Decker and then Schmidt and Williams, all of them having a grudge against the General. I asked Robin to send us the most recent photos they have of Williams, Schmidt, Decker and Kurtz. He's sending them by courier to my attention."

"Gee," Carter remarked. "By my count that's Kurtz, Decker, Schmidt, Williams, and Desmond so far. And Williams is dead now. I wonder how many more there are?"

"Not too many more I hope," Kinch replied.

"Kinch, I hate to be the bearer of bad news," LeBeau said. "But which one of these five would be able to sabotage the Colonel's plane?"

Kinch exhaled deeply. "Hard to say. From what I read of the accident report, what was done to the General's transport required detailed work so as not to be discovered. I somehow doubt Schmidt, Williams, Desmond, Decker or Kurtz capable of being able to do what's required. So, that means there's at least another person. Anybody on the maintenance crew would have access to the General's plane."

LeBeau shook his head sadly. "That means somebody on the maintenance crew sabotaged the Colonel's plane. Animals!"

"Tomorrow I'll have the logs checked to see who worked on the General's plane that day," he commented. They were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Kinch started to get up, but LeBeau patted his arm motioning for him to sit back down, and he got up instead to answer the phone.

"Bonjour. One moment, mon General." The Frenchman held out the receiver. "Sorry, mon ami. It is General Forbes for you."

Kinch smirked as he got up. "An aide's work is never done," he joked as he took the receiver from LeBeau. "Yes, General?" Kinch listened as Forbes talked. When he was finished, Kinch quickly updated him on their recent discoveries. "I understand, sir. Please give Captain Winger our best should you speak with her. We will, sir. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and returned to his seat.

"Well?" LeBeau asked. "What did the General have to say about Captain Winger?"

Kinch sighed. "She's out of surgery and is in recovery. She suffered a scalp laceration resulting in bleeding into her brain. They were able to relieve the pressure on her brain, and the doctors are hopeful for a complete recovery. But they won't know what effects her injury will have until she regains consciousness. But at least she's alive for now."

"Was she, uh….y'know?" asked Carter, blushing.

"No, Andrew, General Forbes said there was no indication of sexual assault." There was an angry look on Kinch's face when talking about Winger's injuries which didn't go unnoticed by LeBeau.

"Ah amour," he purred with both hands over his heart.

Kinch rolled his eyes. "The General is taking tomorrow off as he wants to be present when the Captain regains consciousness. After I updated him, I have permission to use his name for anybody we need to deal with who proves to be difficult. Oh, he asks us to be careful."

LeBeau chuckled. "As if there is any other way to be?"

LeBeau and Carter, at that point, decided to delve into the food that had been sitting and waiting for their attention.

"Boy, am I starved!" exclaimed Carter as he checked the contents of each plate before finding his, and even though all three platters contained the most juicy-looking sirloin steak any of them had ever seen, it was the vegetables that separated each plate and identified who's plate belonged to whom. And Carter's was the one with the spinach; LeBeau's was with the sauteed mushrooms.

"How can you eat that green mush?" LeBeau asked watching his friend dive into the spinach with a horrified expression.

With wide eyes, Carter looked up, his mouth full of spinach. "What green mush? Spinach is good for you. Popeye eats it all the time." He stuffed another forkful of the leafy green vegetable in his mouth. (2)

"Who?" asked LeBeau curiously.

"Y'know, Popeye the Sailor. He's a cartoon character. He always eats spinach. Makes him big and strong."

LeBeau suddenly smirked and shook his head. "Big and strong, eh. Then how come it's not working with you?"

"Huh?"

LeBeau chuckled. "Forget it and eat your dinner."

Carter and LeBeau paused in eating and exchanged worried expressions before their eyes returned to their friend who seemed somewhat preoccupied.

Kinch stared for a moment at his plate before pushing it away. Suddenly he wasn't very hungry anymore.

* * *

LeBeau and Kinch both looked at Carter who seemed a bit lost in thought. "What's bothering you?" asked Kinch.

The young former Sergeant looked up at the Captain. "Can I ask you something, Kinch?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"I was curious about something you said earlier."

Kinch wrapped his arms around himself in a Hoganesque fashion. "I said a lot of things earlier. You'll have to be more specific."

"Well, you said you were with the Colonel during the Korean War. I was wondering exactly what did both of you do in the Korean War?"

Kinch wearily sat back down in his seat and exhaled deeply as the memories came flooding back. "I guess I should explain exactly what it was the General and I did."

**(Flashback):**

_All Hogan knew was that it was to be known by the Air Force as Operation Moolah, and the Pentagon wanted him involved because of his ability as a smooth talker who could sell a used car to anybody even if they didn't want one. Of course he would have preferred being involved in planning strategy, but convinced himself what he was being asked to do was just as important as planning war strategies. (3)_

_As Hogan headed back to his office after leaving the Strategic Air Command, he thought about the operation and what it would entail. He was aware that the Air Force's objective was to capture one of the fully mission capable Soviet MiG-15 planes which had been introduced by the Communist forces on November 1, 1950 over the skies of Korea. Hogan had read all the performance reports which indicated the MiG-15 was superior against all UN aircraft, including the Air Force's newest plane, the F-86 Sabre. Hogan's job was to use his gift of gab, and focus on influencing the Communist pilots to defect to South Korea with a fully mission capable MiG for a financial award and political freedom. _

_Once he returned to his office and sat down behind his desk, the first thing Hogan did was summon Kinch to his office. As he waited for his aide, Hogan mulled over how good it felt to feel needed again, even if what he was asked to do wasn't as exciting as what he had been doing at Stalag 13. It was better than being behind a desk pushing papers. His thoughts were interrupted by Kinch arriving shortly. Once his friend was settled in a chair, Hogan explained exactly what he was going to be doing._

_"From what you've told me, General, I can see why we'd want one of these planes. I mean, in a dogfight, I've read these MiG-15 can outperform the F-86 Sabre not only at higher initial acceleration and could outdistance it in a dive, and that's despite the Sabre having terminal velocity."_

_"Not only that," Hogan added. "But these MiG-15s are armed with a larger cannon which threaten our bombers. Now the SAC is aware of the larger caliber cannon, but knows very little of the technical aspects of the aircraft including its flight performance. Is it no wonder we want one of them to examine?"_

_The success of the operation, despite Hogan's golden tongue, was disputed as to whether or not a single Communist defected with their aircraft before the Armistice was signed on July 27, 1953. But in the end, the advantage lay with the UN Air Forces throughout the war due to their superior tactics, techniques and procedures, superior pilots, and later on in the war, by upgraded Sabres. _

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Kinch inhaled and exhaled through his nose. "And that was what the General did during the Korean War."

"Wow," was all Carter could say. "I bet you and the Colonel were proud of that accomplishment."

"We were," Kinch replied. "And although I'm not at liberty to say how many of the North Korean Air Force pilots along with their planes actually defected, I can say the General told me several times he felt like he was back at Stalag 13 again planning missions to sabotage the Germans. In a way, I think he missed those days."

"Yeah, but he got the promotions he never could have gotten in Stalag 13," said Carter.

Kinch rubbed the back of his neck. "I know that and the general knew that. But deep down, I think he missed the excitement of fooling Klink, planning sabotage missions, conning the Nazis, dodging the Gestapo. He never said so, but it was obvious he missed the excitement of it despite the danger."

"D'accord," said LeBeau. "The Colonel was not made to sit behind a desk. He was a man of action."(4)

"True," Kinch added. "But he never let it stop him from doing whatever he could for the military and his country. And I guess in the end, that's all anybody could really ask of him."

* * *

(1) Luftwaffe Captain Kurtz never had a first name, so I gave him Daerik. The character of Captain Kurtz is from Everyone Has a Brother-In-Law, Season 2.

(2)The cartoon character of Popeye was a fictional character created by Elize Crisler Segan, and first appeared in the daily King Features comic strip January 17, courtesy of Wikipedia.

(3)The Korean War took place from June 24, 1950 through July, 1953. Operation Moolah was a USAF effort during the Korean War to capture a Soviet MiG-15. In exchange for any defection, the defectors were offered $100,000 dollars, and given political asylum. Although nobody knows where the concept for Operation Moolah actually originated, speculation was that the operation was conceived by Captain Alan Abner's office in the Army's Psychological Warfare Branch in Washington, D.C., while a second version says the origin of the plan was by a war correspondent closely associated by General Mark Clark and the idea was passed on to the Pentagon and the Department of State. Info courtesy of Wikipedia.

(4) D'accord means agreed. Info courtesy of Babel Fish.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 21**

It came to him in the wee hours of the following morning.

_Kinch tried to get up but found he couldn't as the plane continued to shudder. He was the only one still conscious but just barely. For some odd reason, Kinch felt so weak and drowsy. Looking sideways, he saw his friend, Robert Hogan, seated beside him with his eyes closed, the back of his head against the wall of the plane. Reaching out a feeble hand, Kinch touched the General's arm only to have the man's head fall sideways away from him. Sensing something was wrong, Kinch grabbed the General's arm and pressed two fingers against his throat only to gasp in horror at finding no pulse. But given his own problems with his equilibrium, he couldn't be certain. Possibly Hogan was simply unconscious or possibly ill. Regardless, Kinch knew he had to get help for the General._

_Kinch had to get to the cockpit and reach the pilot and co-pilot; they would know what to do. Suddenly the plane lurched and started to nosedive; also, it was becoming difficult to breathe. He felt his eyelids grow heavier as the plane continued its nosedive. Kinch's lungs began to ache as he began gasping for whatever oxygen he could find. He knew it would soon be over. Then came the impact and resulting explosion followed quickly by total darkness._

If only there wasn't that incessant ringing. What was it from? Opening his eyes he realized he had been having a dream; or more precisely, a nightmare.

Slowly bringing his legs over the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor, it didn't take long for Kinch to realize it was the ringing of the telephone he had been hearing. He ran both hands down his face and found it wet with perspiration.

Glancing over to see if LeBeau was awake, he noticed the Frenchman was still sound asleep and apparently oblivious to the incessant ringing. Exhaling deeply, Kinch dragged himself to his feet and in the dark, managed to find his way into the living room where he turned on the lamp on the table beside the phone. He grabbed the receiver and pressed it to his ear.

"Kinchloe," he said failing to stifle a yawn.

"_So sorry to call you at this God-awful hour, Captain, but I thought you'd want to know right away."_

Kinch was suddenly more alert now. "What have you got for us, Robin?"

"_Just thought you'd want to know first, the photos you asked for will be in your hands later today. Second, as far as any enemies he made during the Korean War, Hogan didn't make any."_

"That's good to know," Kinch agreed. Yet, his gut was telling him Robin was withholding something. "Anything else?"

"_Matter of fact there is, although we're not quite sure what. It seems that our man Decker had a half-brother by the name of Oskar Doust; the chap's father, Franz Doust, married Decker's mother after her husband died. He had a ten year-old son from a previous marriage. Both parents were killed in a bombing raid on Koblenz a year later leaving Decker to raise the boy alone."_

Kinch, hearing a sound behind him, looked around to see a sleepy little Frenchman staggering into the living room yawning widely. He sat down on a chair beside the table where the phone was and cushioned his chin in one hand with the elbow on the edge of the table; his eyes were on his friend.

"What are you trying to say, Robin?" asked Kinch already suspecting the answer.

"_Anyway, young Oskar hasn't been seen since sometime in late 1953. He used to work on a maintenance crew during the war. He was in charge of maintaining the planes and keeping them in top condition. After the war ended, he simply dropped out of sight. Last thing we found out was that before he disappeared, he was going by the last name of Darwin. But considering how Hogan died and from what Peter told me, it sounds like he could be the man who sabotaged the transport. His photo is included with the others."_

The corners of Kinch's mouth turned upward. "So if he was in charge of fixing the planes and maintaining their operational condition, it's not too far of a stretch to believe he'd also be capable of sabotaging one as well."

"_Oh absolutely, old chap. He was known to be the best at his job," _Robin replied. _"I do hope this helps?" _

"More than you could know," Kinch replied with a grin at LeBeau who was having difficulty staying awake. "Thanks for all your help. If we need anything else we'll give you a call."

"_Jolly good show, Captain. And please give Peter my best and wishes for a speedy recovery, will you? Good luck with your investigation then. Goodbye."_

"Goodbye." Kinch hung up the phone and folded his arms. Looking at LeBeau, he saw the Frenchman's eyes were closed. "Louie!" he said loudly causing the Frenchman's eyes to pop open.

"What?" LeBeau asked, yawning again. "What's happened?"

In as few words as possible, Kinch repeated what Robin had told him. LeBeau, who was fully awake now, looked at his friend with eyes narrowed and his mouth hanging open.

"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed in shock when Kinch had finished his story. "And Robin is sure about this Doust?"

"It seems to fit. Doust hasn't been seen since sometime in late 1953. I need to check the maintenance logs later today and see if there is an Oskar Darwin or Oskar Doust who worked on the General's plane the day of the crash. If there is, and from what Robin told me, he could be our sixth man." He ran a hand down his face. "I hope to hell there aren't anymore. Six is more than enough. But it makes sense that Decker would want somebody he could trust to sabotage the General's plane."

"Oui. And considering the expertise with repairing them, I am willing to bet he rigged those CO canisters to leak into the cargo area and then the cockpit. Kinch, can I ask you a favor?"

The Captain glanced at the Frenchman, curious. "Sure. What is it?"

"When we find this Doust or Darwin or whatever his name is….request permission to beat him to death." From the look on LeBeau's face, Kinch knew he was dead serious.

"I understand how you feel," Kinch replied wearily. "And I would like nothing better than to let you. But he and all the others have to answer to a court of law for what they did."

LeBeau sighed equally weary and crossed his legs and folded his arms. "You are right, of course, mon ami," he said. "It's just that the Colonel belonged to the four of us, and it should be up to us to dole out their punishment. They should all die the same way the Colonel did, but more slowly and painfully."

"What would you do to them?" asked Kinch, curious.

LeBeau shrugged. "I would handcuff and gag the filthy Bosche in their seats and let them be fully conscious when the plane goes down. Let them feel the fear the Colonel may or may not have felt before he realized he was about to die."

Kinch shook his head. Internally, he wished with all he had that he could let the Frenchman, Carter and Newkirk have their turns with the six men. Hell, he'd even take a turn with them. They all needed to know what the punishment was for anybody that harmed Hogan; they needed to also know that there were people who were willing to exact revenge on those who dared to do such a thing, even if Hogan had been killed. And what of the two pilots and Major Bergman? He was positive the families of those three men would want some 'quality' time with the guilty parties as well, and he couldn't blame them. But as he had just told the little Frenchman, a court of law would decide the punishment to be doled out, and Kinch was positive the punishment would be swift and brutal. It was then he noticed the Frenchman looking at him.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Oui. Why were you tossing and turning in your sleep?"

Kinch seemed genuinely surprised. "I was?"

"Oui. You seemed to be having a cauchemar…a nightmare. You were calling out in your sleep."

"What was I saying?"

"You were saying non, non. Over and over. Care to talk about it?"

Kinch turned his back on LeBeau and walked over to the couch where he plopped down on it; a few seconds later LeBeau sat beside him with a worried look on his face. He had briefly seen the haunted look in Kinch's eyes when he had said he had been overheard crying out in his sleep.

"You were dreaming about the Colonel, weren't you, mon ami?" LeBeau asked gently with one arm on the back of the couch with the side of his face against the back of his hand; his other arm resting in his lap.

Exhaling deeply, Kinch leaned the back of his head on the back of the couch. "How'd you know?" he asked without looking at him.

"I know you. Also, I saw your reaction when you told us about the toxicology report findings. What the Colonel went through just before he died affected you very hard. Add to that the fact that you were suppose to be on the plane with him. It is only natural."

"I dreamt I was on the transport with the General," Kinch explained. "The plane was shaking and I could barely move; I felt so sleepy and disoriented. The General was seated beside me and he appeared unconscious. When I checked he had no pulse. I knew I had to get him some help, but when I tried to move I couldn't. Then I could barely breathe. Next thing I knew, the plane crashed and everything went dark."

"How horrible," said LeBeau.

Kinch rubbed his head as a headache was beginning. The Frenchman noticed how distressed his friend was.

"You are suffering from survivor's guilt, mon ami," LeBeau said knowingly. He saw Kinch look at him and could see he was thinking the same thing. "You believe you should have died with the Colonel in the crash and feel guilty he died while you lived."

Kinch bit his lower lip. He knew LeBeau was right in his assessment. He did feel guilt, terrible guilt. He knew it was only by a twist of fate that Major Bergman had replaced him on the flight. He wondered if Hogan had a suspicion he might die that night and had planned with Butler's help to keep him from getting on the flight. But even if he did, Kinch knew Hogan would _never_ jeopardize Bergman by having him join him on the transport; he would have instead, canceled the flight, and driven to the meeting in Maryland. And now besides the guilt, he felt shame to even have thought such a thing. Having known Hogan as long as he had, he knew Hogan would never jeopardize _any_ man if he thought he himself was going to die on that flight.

"Do me a favor, will you?" he asked softly.

"Certainement," said LeBeau. "What can I do?" He saw the pained look in Kinch's eyes.

"Don't mention it to Carter or Newkirk. I don't need them worrying about me when we have more important things to think about. Besides…." Kinch took a deep breathe and then let it out. "…once we expose these bastards, I hope my nightmares and guilt will go away."

"Let us hope so," said LeBeau with a faint smile. "Guilt is a terrible thing to have especially when one has no reason to have it." He paused before continuing. "But let me say this one last thing. Nobody will ever know if the Colonel knew he would perish during that flight. But I feel comfortable saying that even if he did, he would not have allowed anybody else to accompany him on that flight. He would have found someway to travel alone with the exception of the pilots which he could have done nothing about. Afterall, he was forbidden from piloting a plane himself."

Kinch, looking into LeBeau's brown eyes, could see the caring and concern in them. He smiled sadly knowing the Frenchman was right, but it was of small comfort. He glanced at his watch.

"It's late. We'd better try and get some sleep. We have a lot to do later today."

"Such as?"

"First we're going to visit Newkirk and show him that photo of that wall mirror and see if he recognizes it. Then, I'm going to search the maintenance logs for this Oskar Doust or Darwin. Robin sent photos of the guilty parties by courier and I should have them later today. I also need to speak with General Forbes."

"What do you want Andre and I to do?"

"Nothing at first. Just stay here and remain by the phone. I should be phoning you at some point."

LeBeau smiled devilishly as he and Kinch got to their feet. "You have something planned, don't you?" he asked eagerly.

"Yep. It's time we use that bug planted in my office and reel in Major Desmond and Wilhelm Schmidt."

* * *

Major Desmond was lying wide on his back, awake in, in his small apartment for most of the night; his hands tucked beneath his head. He had been unable to sleep since going to bed as his mind kept rehashing the events of the day before. Foremost in his mind were the orders by the man he was involved with; for they were the orders which scared him the most. And while it was true he still knew absolutely nothing about the man other than he paid him well for his services, he somehow felt that any man who could order the killing of one of his own men would not hesitate to see that the same thing happened to him. That was what frightened him about this man. The look in his eyes as he sat in his office told him this man was not someone to be crossed or toyed with. Desmond wondered what the man would say if he found out what he had done. But how could he blame him for not setting up General Forbes? It wasn't his fault Forbes was out of the office when he went to see him, and Winger had been readily available at the moment. And it was because of the General's unavailability and Winger's availability that his thoughts momentarily shifted from what he had been ordered to do to what he had actually done.

His thoughts then turned to Janice Winger who he had heard was lying in a hospital unconscious, having survived surgery to stop the bleeding into her brain. He knew he shouldn't have hit her, but his temper momentarily got the best of him when he saw how she smiled while talking to that Captain, and was further fueled when she slapped him. He knew it was fortunate for him he had left the building shortly after returning to his office as he had heard the building had been shut down mere minutes after he left.

He pulled one hand out from under his head and looked at the knuckles. The bruising was evident to anyone who looked closely. Perhaps some make-up might cover the bruises he thought to himself. He still had some of his former wife's face powder in the bedroom which he had shoved into a dresser drawer somewhere. He reminded himself to apply some of it to cover the bruises before he left for work later. He also reminded himself that he had to drop subtle hints about Kinch and Winger when he got to work, and let things take their natural course as he sat back and watched. The only thing that could ruin things would be if Winger regained consciousness and talked.

* * *

Andrew Carter sat in a chair by the bedroom window staring out into the early morning. He had tossed and turned throughout the night and found himself unable to sleep; so, he had gone into the living room of the room he shared with Newkirk and called his wife, Arlene. He missed her and the children so much, especially the new baby, Robbie. He was sure the baby was getting big and maybe going though changes and he was missing it. But he also knew it couldn't be helped. Arlene had listened to her husband and could sense how much he wanted to come home. But she reminded him that while he felt that way now, if he did abandon the investigation and returned to Bullfrog, he would later hate himself for it. Therefore, he should stay and see things through, but to be careful. Afterall, she was only a phone call away. She further explained that things were fine at the drugstore and that his boss understood his absence and not to worry about his job. He then spoke to his daughter and the twins before telling each how much he loved them and for Arlene to kiss the baby for him. After he hung up, he returned to the bedroom, stared at Newkirk's empty bed, and found himself missing the Englander more than he had intended.

After that, he gave up even trying to sleep, and quietly left his adjoining room and went downstairs to the bar where he had a few drinks but not enough to get drunk as he never was much of a drinker. Now feeling tired but not sleepy still, he then decided to take a walk and left the hotel, enjoying the coolness of the remainder of the night and the early morning air. As he walked, he thought about Hogan some, and then about Newkirk. He recalled when he and LeBeau had arrived at Butler's house and noticed the blood and then the covered body on the floor covered with a sheet. For a brief few moments, Carter had feared the worst. He feared the body under the sheet was Newkirk's. And just that belief shattered his heart as Newkirk was his best friend and had been since Stalag 13. But it had been more than that. He never told Newkirk, of course, but he thought of the Englander as the older brother he never had but always wished he did. Of course he knew he often got on Newkirk's nerves and the Englander was always teasing him, but he knew he didn't mean anything by his taunts; afterall, isn't that what brothers did? They teased each other.

Carter had never been so glad to hear the Englander's words when LeBeau appeared to grow faint at seeing the blood on the floor near the body. Inwardly, he wanted to grab Newkirk in a bear-hug and never let go; but outwardly, he knew how much Newkirk hated emotional displays, and doubted after all this time that had changed. But right now, he was just glad his friend was still alive, and wished he was here right now so he could tell him exactly how scared he was when he had heard he'd been shot. Sighing as the effects of the alcohol were beginning to be felt, he decided to return to the hotel and found sleep came quickly.

* * *

Having returned to bed, Kinch found he was still unable to sleep despite the talk he had had earlier with LeBeau. He couldn't rid himself of the overwhelming guilt he had for living while Hogan was dead. It wasn't fair. But who said life was ever fair? But something LeBeau had said stayed in his mind. _"Did you know you were about to die, General?"_ he asked himself. _"Did you have any idea it was going to happen on that flight? Did you even know?"_ Kinch exhaled deeply as that thought keep running through his mind over and over. He prayed Hogan was unconscious and didn't know at the time before the crash. He preferred to think his friend was either dead or unconscious. It was better to believe this than to think of the alternative which was that Hogan had been conscious and knew what was happening even as the plane was going down. _"I never thought I'd ever say this," _Kinch told himself. _"But for once I really hope you were already dead before it happened."_ He then closed his eyes and fell into a restless, nightmare plagued sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 22**

Exhausted even though the day hadn't even begun, Kinch joined Carter and LeBeau at the hospital as soon as visiting hours began. Of the three, only LeBeau seemed somewhat refreshed although tired; but he could tell from looking at his two friends, that both had had restless nights, more so Kinch despite their talk earlier. He sensed the Captain had slept poorly the remainder of the night. The first room their went to was Captain Winger's room where they noticed General Forbes asleep in a chair against the wall.

"General?" Kinch murmured softly gently shaking his superior's shoulder.

"Uggggh," Forbes mumbled sleepily as he opened his eyes. He turned his tired eyes upward to see his aide looking down at him, concerned. He wiped the crustiness from his eyes before getting up, and after glancing at the woman lying in the bed with her head bandaged, gestured for the others to join him outside the room.

"How is the Capitaine, mon General?" asked LeBeau, worried.

Forbes sighed. "She held her own during the night but is still unconscious. But her vitals are strong according to the last exam by her surgeon. I'm waiting for the doctor to visit her this morning." He sighed tiredly. "I contacted Winger's father after she came out of surgery. Her mother died two years ago from cancer. He is going to contact her two younger brothers and one older sister. Her brothers are away at college, and her sister lives in California and is married. Her father will be here this evening or tomorrow morning. Depends on how long it takes him to reach the others. I offered to call them but he wanted to do it himself."

"You need to get some rest, sir," Kinch told the man.

Looking at Kinch, Forbes smiled weakly. "I could say the same for you, Kinch. For all of you, in fact."

"We can rest after we catch these bastards, sir," Kinch said. He didn't want Forbes to know about his nightmares as he feared the General would pull him from the investigation and rightly so. But Kinch was determined to see this investigation through to the end; afterall, he owed it to the late General to do so. He quickly updated Forbes on the latest.

"We're now on our way to visit Newkirk before I head to the office," Kinch explained, "But we just wanted to check on Captain Winger first."

Forbes noticed the pain in his aide's eyes but kept his own face impassive. He had gotten to know Kinch quite well and sensed the Captain was trying his best to hide something from him; Hogan had been the same way. "Kinch, I'd like to speak with you for a few minutes."

"Of course, sir," Kinch replied.

"Alone," Forbes glanced at Carter and LeBeau who both nodded their understanding. LeBeau touched Kinch's arm.

"We will go visit with Pierre. Join us as soon as you can, mon ami." He saw Kinch nod before he and Carter turned and walked away. Now alone, Kinch turned his attention back to his commanding officer.

"You wish to speak with me, General?"

Forbes gestured to some empty seats against the wall not far from Winger's room. "Let's sit down first." He led the way down the hall and sat down with Kinch doing likewise, his briefcase in his lap.

"Kinch, I trust you consider me a friend. Perhaps not as close a friend as Hogan was, but a friend nonetheless."

Kinch was a bit embarrassed that although he _did _consider the General a friend, a _very_ good friend, he couldn't quite consider him the friend Hogan was; hell, not even in the same friend category that Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter were. He still didn't feel quite that comfortable yet where he could confide _everything_ with him just yet. "I do, sir, honestly. It's just…." he hung his head, unable to finish.

"It's okay that you don't feel comfortable enough yet to confide in me about everything as you would your friends or even with Hogan. Rob was one of a kind and instilled in his men a knowledge that they could trust him with even their deepest secrets or concerns. I'm not upset. I only hope that one day I'll fit in that category. But that's beside the point."

Kinch raised his head. Forbes' words gave him relief, but didn't do much into making him feel any better. "Then what did you want to speak with me about?"

"You're in pain. I can see it in your eyes. Something is causing you great distress, and I wish you'd let me help. I would like to very much if you'd let me."

Kinch hung his head again and shook it sadly. "I'm sorry, sir. I just can't. Not right now anyway. Perhaps after this is over, if then."

Forbes was unwilling to accept this answer and decided to take a stab at what he thought the problem was. "You're having survivor's guilt, aren't you?" When he saw Kinch look up, amazed, he knew he'd guessed right.

"How….how did you know?"

Forbes smiled gently. "I may not be Rob," he said. "But I know how to read those under my command. Actually, I'm surprised you didn't suffer from it sooner. When did it start exactly?"

Kinch exhaled deeply. "After I read the toxicological report on the General and understood what happened to him before the crash. I felt so guilty to be alive. I was suppose to be on that transport with him. And yet, only by a twist of fate, does Major Bergman die in my place with the others. I even found myself wondering if the General knew he was going to die on that flight and purposely had me replaced by Major Bergman so that I would live. Then I felt shame for even thinking that the General would ever endanger someone else in my place."

Forbes listened carefully hearing the pain in Kinch's voice as well as seeing it in his face. When his aide was finished, the General inhaled and exhaled through his nose. "I want you to listen to me very carefully. You're feeling guilty because you're here and Rob is gone. But you shouldn't feel guilty. Not in any way. And you're absolutely right. Rob would _never_ sacrifice one man to save another. It wasn't in him. But what you're feeling is perfectly normal. We may never know if he knew he was going to die on that flight. But if he did, I knew him well enough to say he wouldn't have allowed Major Bergman to accompany him. He would have gone alone; hell, he would have found a way to fly the damn plane himself if he could have. No, I don't believe he knew he would die then. So don't feel guilt because of coincidences that just happened to work in your favor at the time. And as far as feeling shame at what you thought, you shouldn't. I think the way things turned out it's not odd that you would think that."

A small smile made it's way to Kinch's face. "LeBeau knew. He said pretty much the same thing just in not so many words."

"Your Frenchman is a wise man, then," Forbes replied with a grin. "After hearing this I am more inclined than ever to remove you from this investigation as it's affecting you too much for my satisfaction. But I have a feeling doing that might make things worse somehow so I won't."

"Thank you, sir. And not just for that. But for listening to me as well."

Forbes put a hand on Kinch's shoulder. "I will always listen to you if you're having problems. As I said earlier, I'm not Rob, but I am your friend besides being your commanding officer."

"Correction, General. You are very much like General Hogan. More so than you even know."

"I thank you for that." Out of the corner of his eyes, Forbes noticed Winger's doctor approaching. He got to his feet as did Kinch. "Winger's doctor's here, so, you'd better join your friends before they start worrying. After I find out how she's doing, I'm going to head home and get some rest. So, you can reach me there should you need me. And I hope I've been able to help you in some small way."

"Yes, sir. You have given me much to think about. And sir, I do trust you explicitly, don't ever doubt that." He saluted Forbes who returned the salute; then, Kinch turned and headed in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Give Mavis and the kids hugs and kisses from me, luv," Newkirk said into the receiver when he saw Carter and LeBeau walking into his room. "Gotta go, darlin', LeBeau and Carter are here for a visit. I will. Bye-bye, luv." He hung up the phone and sighed sadly.

"Clarissa?" asked LeBeau.

"Yeah," Newkirk admitted sadly. "She wasn't too happy to hear I'd been shot and made me swear I'd be more careful from here on out. She threatened to make me sleep on the sofa when I get home if I got hurt again." He sighed. "Blimey, I miss her and the kids something awful. She says the twins keep askin' where daddy is and she keeps tellin' 'em I'm away on business. Thank God they're too young to suspect anything else."

"How about Peter Jr. and Mavis?" asked Carter. He could sympathize with his British friend completely.

"Mavis is fine but worried about me, and me oldest is hoping I'll return home soon. Clarissa sends her love to both of you." Newkirk looked at Carter. "You phone Arlene and the kids, Andrew?"

"Yeah. Last night." He sighed. "Boy do I miss 'em, especially the baby. Arlene says he's changing every day."

Newkirk looked at the little Frenchman who was still a bachelor. "How 'bout you, mate? How's the restaurant in your absence?"

LeBeau smiled. "It is doing well. My family is looking after things in my absence. I understand there is a full house every night."

"Glad to hear it, mate," Newkirk said with a smile. Then, his smile changed to a frown. "Here's hoping you two ruddy geniuses have come to bail me outta here before I go bloody crackers!"

"Non," LeBeau chuckled. "But you are looking better, isn't he, Andre?" When Carter didn't respond, he jabbed him in the ribs. "I _said _Pierre is looking better, isn't he?"

Carter's eyes widened momentarily before a smile appeared. "Oh yeah, You're lookin' great, buddy. Really good. Much better than before when we saw you in General Butler's house. I mean you didn't look all that bad then, but…."

"Andrew, quit you're bloody natterin'," Newkirk said after rolling his eyes. He shook his head and touched the sling on his injured left arm. "You bloody twisters," he griped affectionately. "Where's Kinch?"

"He is speaking with General Forbes and should be along shortly," said LeBeau as he sat down on the edge of the bed; Carter sat in the chair nearby. "But seriously, how do you feel?"

"I'm goin' out of me bloody mind cooped up in here," the Englander complained. It was a sure way for Carter and LeBeau to know their friend was feeling better. Even at Stalag 13, whenever the Englander was hurt or ill and started griping, it was a sure sign he was feeling better. In many ways, the Englander was very much like the late General; always had been. Newkirk eyed both men. "Look, I don't need both arms to be able investigate these bloody bastards. Now are you gonna get me outta here or not?"

"Try or not," said a voice from the doorway. The men looked over and saw Kinch walking into the room with an amused grin. He had heard some of Newkirk's complaining . "The doctor said at least three days and it hasn't even been two full days yet." He grabbed a chair from against the wall on the other side of the room, pulled it over to the bed, and sat down beside Carter.

"Kinch, me old mate. Can't you pull some strings and get me outta here?"

"Forget it," Kinch replied placing his briefcase on the floor beside him. He brought him up to date regarding what Robin had told him earlier.

"So this ruddy Doust or Darwin is related to Decker?" Newkirk asked.

"So it seems," said Kinch. Robin's sending the photos so we'll have an idea of what they may look like now or close to it anyway." He reached inside his inner jacket pocket. "Speaking of photos, this came for you yesterday along with the message from Robin for us to get back to him which we did." He handed Newkirk the envelope. "We're hoping you can recognize what's inside."

Newkirk studied the writing on the outside of the envelope and his eyes narrowed. He had seen the handwriting somewhere before but at the moment couldn't recall exactly where. Opening the envelope he turned it upside down allowing the photograph inside to fall into his lap. His eyes widened.

"Blimey," he exclaimed picking up the photo of the wall mirror and looking closely.

"You recognize it, Pierre?"

"I can't be sure, mind you, but that looks like the wall mirror in General Butler's house above his liquor cabinet."

"You sure?" asked Kinch.

"Of course I can't be positive without being in Butler's house again, but I'm willing to bet me life on it." He handed the photo and envelope back to Kinch.

"But why would General Butler send you a photo of his wall mirror?" asked a confused Carter.

"That's a good question," Kinch murmured studying the photo. "Obviously the General thought this wall mirror was important enough to send a photo of it to Newkirk. I guess he figured it would have some meaning to him somehow."

"Wait a minute. Let me see that photo again," said Newkirk with knitted eyebrows; Kinch handed it to him. Studying it again, the corners of his mouth turned upward. "Now I remember, the General has a wall safe behind this mirror. I'd seen it once or twice when I visited him at home. He kept his important documents and the like in it."

"Maybe that's what General Butler wanted us to know," said Carter enthusiastically. "Maybe he wanted us to know there was something he wanted us to see in his wall safe, and he knew Newkirk would know there was one there because he'd seen it before."

LeBeau looked at Kinch. "Sounds as much of a possibility as anything I could think of," the Frenchman said with a shrug.

Kinch took the photo and envelope back from the Englander. "LeBeau, after we leave here, I want you and Carter to return to General Butler's home and check out that wall safe."

"Ahem," Newkirk cleared his throat loudly. "If you want a look in that wall safe you're gonna need the ten magic fingers of ole Peter Newkirk. Well, five magic fingers actually."

"Forget it," Kinch said tucking the envelope back inside his inner jacket pocket. "You are not getting out of this hospital for another two days, so forget it."

Newkirk smirked, refusing to be deterred. "Have it your way, mate. But you'll never open that safe without me." The smirk on his face disappeared when he saw Kinch slowly shake his head with a smirk of his own.

"Surely there has to be someone who can open Butler's safe same as you. We just have to find that someone."

"Good luck," Newkirk snickered smugly.

* * *

It was nearly three hours later when Kinch finally arrived at the Pentagon. However, the first things he noticed was the reactions of several of the employees on the main floor around him. What he noticed were the gestures and looks from some people aimed in his direction as he walked amongst the throngs of people and towards the banks of elevators. And although he couldn't swear to anything, from the looks he was receiving from several passersby, he got a strange sense it concerned him.

Nearing a small group of people waiting by an elevator, Kinch smiled at the trio each of whom he knew and had always gotten along with. So his smile immediately turned to a frown when he noticed them glare at him, then look him up and down in disgust before moving away and to another nearby elevator leaving him alone.

When the elevator doors opened, he stepped inside. As the doors were closing, Kinch heard someone shout to hold the elevator. Leaping forward, Kinch blocked the closing doors with his hand causing the doors to slid open again where he saw a middle age man he recognized step forward before his eyes landed on him. The man smiled warmly at Kinch and got in the elevator with him. As the doors closed and the car started it's upward journey, the man, a second Lieutenant, looked at the Captain and shook his head.

"Just so you know, Captain, I don't believe the rumor going around."

Kinch looked at the man with raised eyebrows. "Rumor? What rumor? What are you talking about?"

"You mean you haven't heard?" The Lieutenant saw Kinch shake his head. "There's a rumor circulating that you tried to force yourself on Captain Winger when she rejected your advances."

* * *

LeBeau parked the car across the street from General Butler's house and both he and Carter sat in the car for a few minutes staring at the house in question. The Frenchman and the American looked at each other grimly and then back at the house.

"I can't believe General Butler's really gone," Carter said quietly. "I mean, it's so unreal."

"Oui. But according to Pierre, he was dying from cancer and might not have survived another month. He was a brave man and a good friend to us and the Colonel. He knew before any of us that Colonel Hogan's death was no accident and tried to bring the guilty to justice himself, and it got him killed. Now for General Butler, la guerre est finie."

Carter swallowed the growing lump in his throat. "What does that mean?"

LeBeau exhaled deeply. "It means for the General, the war is over."

"Yeah," Carter agreed solemnly. "Now he'll never know when we expose the conspiracy and all the ones responsible."

"He'll know, Andre," LeBeau said quietly. "Trust me, he will know." Sighing, he reached into his pocket and removed the keys to Butler's house Kinch had given him, and motioned for Carter to get out of the car. The two men jogged across the street making sure to look both ways and seeing nobody in either direction. The last thing they needed was to attract attention from anybody. Hurrying up the stairs, LeBeau inserted the key into the door, unlocked it, and opened the door. Both he and Carter froze at the sight which greeted their eyes which were wide like saucers; both their mouths fell open.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed LeBeau.

"Holey Moley!" Carter stated.

The living room was in a shambles with sofa and chair cushions shredded, their contents strewn about. The wall mirror in the photo was lying on the floor where it had been dropped, it's glass cracked in several places. But most importantly, the wall safe it hid was open, and it's contents gone.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 23**

Carter and LeBeau finally emerged from their shocked state and slowly entered the room, making sure the door was closed behind them. As they moved about, the sound of broken glass crunched beneath their feet.

"What the hell happened here?" asked Carter gazing around the wrecked room. He noticed LeBeau, who had made a beeline to the wall safe, was standing up on tiptoes and peering inside.

"Whatever Butler had in here is gone now, Andre," LeBeau remarked sadly. "Now we'll never know what the General wanted us to find."

"Maybe we should call Kinch and let him know what happened," Carter suggested.

LeBeau looked at his watch. "He might be in his office by now," he said. "And there is nothing we have to say that should surprise whoever is listening on that bug, as I suspect they are the ones behind this chaos," he said gesturing around to the living room that was now in shambles. He reached for the receiver when a cry from Carter stopped him. "What?" he asked looking around.

"Better use a handkerchief when you use the phone," the young man suggested. "You don't want to leave any fingerprints."

The Frenchman looked at his young friend quizzically. "What are you talking about?"

"I read it in a Dick Tracy comic strip," Carter explained enthusiastically. "This bad guy touched something and left his fingerprints on it. That's how Dick Tracey found him. They had his fingerprints. So if you're gonna use the phone, you better use a handkerchief to pick up the receiver. Besides, who knows if the police have been here yet. You wouldn't want them to find your fingerprints here and think we had something to do with what happened here, would you?"(1)

"Pierre is right about you, Andre," LeBeau murmured reaching into his pocket and after removing a handkerchief, grabbed the receiver and dialed Kinch's office number. "Sometimes you do have a good idea now and then." He saw Carter smile at the compliment as the phone continued to ring on the other end. LeBeau let it ring several more times, hoping their friend was there.

"_Kinchloe."_

"Kinch, it is LeBeau. Carter and I are at General Butler's. The place has been ransacked and the wall safe is empty."

"_Empty? What do you mean empty?"_

"I mean whatever was inside is now gone, mon ami. Now we will never know what the General wanted us to see."

"_Damn." _There was a pause. _"How's the General holding up?"_

"He is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances," LeBeau said feigning a conversation with the Captain. "But he is upset over his home being ransacked. What do you want us to do now?"

"_Nothing you and Carter can do now that somebody beat us to the contents of the safe. You and Carter head back to the hotel. And take General Butler with you. It's obvious he can't stay there. And give him my best."_

"I will. Andre, the General, and I will wait for you there. Au Revoir_." _He hung up the phone and stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket.

"Hey, look what I found!" Carter suddenly said excitedly. LeBeau, turning, saw Carter seated on the floor with the mirror on his lap. While he was busy chatting on the phone, the American had picked up the mirror and as he did so, one of the cracked corners fell away revealing a corner of a manila envelope hidden behind it. He looked up at the Frenchman with wide eyes. "Looks like an envelope."

"Sacre Chats!" LeBeau replied excitedly as he crouched down beside the American. "Help me remove the other cracked pieces of glass." It took a few minutes for both men to carefully remove all the shards of cracked glass to reveal an eight-by-ten inch manila envelope. LeBeau hastily grabbed the envelope and proceeded to rip open the top.

"That's a strange place to hide an envelope," Carter mused as he slowly got to his feet watching LeBeau remove a file folder from the envelope and saw his eyes grow big.

"Mon Dieu! Andre, do you know what this is?"

"What?"

"This a copy of Colonel Hogan's file from the Pentagon." He thumbed through the folder. "It looks like it contains everything regarding the Colonel's death along with what the General was able to find along with notes he made during his own investigation, along with copies of the documentation we received at the restaurant that day." He closed the folder. "There is also a note attached to the outside of the folder."

"What's it say?" asked Carter, his own eyes growing wide.

"It says: 'The original is in the wall safe. Can't take chances as am being watched. This folder contains everything that is in the original which I took from the Pentagon upon leaving. Guard these copies carefully. There are no others. Butler.'"

"Wow!" Carter exclaimed.

"Andre, this is what Butler wanted us to find. That is why he sent Newkirk that photo of the wall mirror. If perchance somebody got to the wall safe first, he knew with Pierre's past as a petty thief before the war, he would realize the back of the wall mirror had a false back on it hiding this envelope!" LeBeau patted Carter's cheek. "You found it, mon ami! You did it!"

Carter shrugged, looking embarrassed. "Aw shucks, it was nothing," he said sheepishly.

LeBeau closed the folder, placed it back in the envelope and closed it. "Come, we must leave here quickly and show this to Kinch."

"But didn't Kinch tell us to return to the hotel and wait for him to call?" asked Carter. "Besides, he has that bug in his office, remember? We can't tell him about finding a copy of the file."

"Baise! In my excitement I forgot. Come, we will return to the hotel and wait for him to contact us instead. That way, we can go through the contents of this file together."

Sticking the envelope into the waistband of his trousers, LeBeau fastened his jacket over it to cover it, and then together, he and Carter cautiously left Butler's house and headed to their car, again looking both ways to make sure nobody was watching.

* * *

Kinch, having hung up the telephone after speaking with LeBeau, fell back in his chair, massaging his forehead as a headache was beginning to develop. First there was the rumor that _he_ had attacked Captain Winger, and now this. What else could go wrong? Sighing wearily, Kinch picked up the envelope that was sitting on his desk and opened it, knowing it was from MI6, and removed six eight-by-ten size of the most recent black and white photos of the suspects as they appeared with each name and alias or aliases on the back. Glancing briefly at the photo of recently deceased Jack Williams, Kinch put it aside to concentrate on the others.

The first photo he came across was Bruno Decker. He immediately noticed in the photo the man showed the least change in appearance over the years. Other than a bit of puffiness around his face and lines under his eyes, Decker looked pretty much the same as he did during Hogan's time at Stalag 13. Kinch next paid close attention to the photo of Wilhelm Schmidt and realized he had seen him before, only he knew him as the janitor Andrew Wyler. He also looked nearly the same except his hair was now darker than before and he now had a mustache. Next was Daerik Kurtz aka Dietrich Kurtz. He had changed quite a bit from the Luftwaffe Captain he had known as at Stalag 13 when he was assigned as Klink's adjutant by General Burkhalter; he was also the General's brother-in-law, and proved to be a royal pain-in-the ass to Hogan and his men. Also, he interfered in their mission to blow up a 'munitions train. Kurtz's true name was Daerik Kurtz, but on occasion went by Dietrich Kurtz to those he wasn't sure about or didn't trust. He now had grey hair and bags under his eyes along with puffiness in the face, but the brown eyes were as hard as ever. The last photo was of the most interest to Kinch; it was the photo of Oskar Doust aka Oskar Darwin. Kinch immediately recognized him as the man he had spoken with the day he discovered the empty CO2 canisters amongst the wreckage of the General's transport. Kinch's lower jaw ground so hard his teeth hurt as he studied the deep brown eyes and slightly grey hair. _"So this is the bastard who sabotaged the General's plane,"_ he told himself angrily. _"When I get my hands on him, he'll wish he was dead." _

Now that each man's face had been committed to memory, Kinch slid the photos back into the envelope and stuck the envelope into a bottom desk drawer making a mental note to himself to put them into his briefcase before he left for the day so that Carter and LeBeau could study the photos as soon-as-possible, and Newkirk later. But now, Kinch told himself, he had to contact his commanding officer and inform him of the latest.

Sighing wearily, he picked up the receiver again, and asked to be connected to General Forbes at home. He listened as the phone rang and rang and rang. Finally, on the fifth ring, he heard the phone being picked up.

"_General Forbes."_

"Sir, this is Captain Kinchloe. I wouldn't be calling you at this moment except there's something I discovered when I came into the office that caught me off guard and felt I should make you aware of."

"_And what might that be, Captain?" asked Forbes, the exhaustion could be heard in his voice._

"I was informed by Lieutenant Devlin that there's a rumor circulating that I forced myself on Captain Winger when she rejected my advances. And while he doesn't believe it, I did run into a couple of people who seem to."

"_My God. Who would start a disgusting rumor like that? Any idea?"_

"Yes, sir. Major Desmond. And I believe he is also the one who attacked Captain Winger as well."

"_My God_! _I can't believe this is happening._ _Try not to worry, Captain. I'll put an immediate stop to this rumor as soon as I get off the phone with you. I'll also make certain security knows you were with me the entire time, so there is no way you could have attacked Winger. And while I'm at it, I will put a stop to Major Desmond as well. This time he will be brought up on charges of assault on Captain Winger for starters."_

"If you don't mind, sir, I would prefer to call him myself and inform him that he's gone too far this time and is under suspicion for attacking Captain Winger if you don't mind. Oh, and one last thing, General, I request my office be checked for listening devices."

"_I have no problems with the request for you to call Major Desmond as long as you inform him you are acting for me in my absence; but, why would you want your office swept for listening devices?"_

"I just have a feeling that someone is listening to everything I say in this office, sir. Of course I could be acting paranoid, but with my problems with Major Desmond and what happened to Captain Winger, I wouldn't put it past Desmond to have my office bugged so he'd know exactly what I'm saying and to whom."

"_Very well, Captain. I will contact Security and have them sweep your office immediately."_

"Begging the General's pardon, but could it be done after I leave this evening? I have several things that have to be done and I can't afford to be interrupted. I should be gone about four-thirty p.m."

"_Very well. I'll have them perform the sweep about five then. Will that give you enough time?"_

"Plenty, sir. Thank you. I appreciate it. Oh, before I forget, what did Captain Winger's doctor have to say after examining her this morning?"

"_She's in a coma, I'm afraid. He doesn't hold out much hope for her to come out of it, and once her father arrives, a decision will have to be made as to whether to take her off life support. I am really going to miss her. She was a great asset to my office."_

"Yes, sir," Kinch agreed. "It will be a great loss to us all_. _She was a good officer with a lot of potential. I hope she somehow pulls through. Goodbye, sir."

"_Goodbye."_

Kinch heard the click on the other end and knew Forbes had hung up. He smirked knowing whoever had ordered the bug planted in his office was listening, and hopefully had bought the phony conversation between him and Forbes. Kinch was secretly amazed at his commanding officer's ability to improvise and play along without any advance warning similar to Hogan. Kinch had often marveled at how the late General was so quick to catch on to what his men were saying while in the face of danger without any clue whatsoever. One would have no idea he didn't know beforehand. Hogan had made his participation seem so natural one would easily believe he had been a participant in the planning of what he was going to say. Kinch smiled faintly as he recalled one such time when Hogan walked into a situation cold turkey, and improvised in such a way that nobody suspected he hadn't been involved in the pre-planning.

_**(Flashback):**_

_It had been pouring rain for nearly a week, and Stalag 13 was soaked. In other words, nothing was moving as the roads were nothing but mud, and large swamps were everywhere. The prisoners even had to play hopscotch by jumping over the puddles outside their barracks. Fortunately, Klink didn't enjoy getting wet anymore than the prisoners, and thankfully kept his speeches relatively short during roll call._

_But being inside the barracks soon became worse than being outside. Water began dripping from the ceiling in various places, and the men found themselves constantly emptying buckets and pails before they overflowed. But they found the worse leaks were in Colonel Hogan's quarters. In fact, Kinch and Newkirk had to help Hogan move his double bunk bed out of the way when raindrops began hitting the Colonel in his face as he was sleeping on the upper bunk. Hogan soon began showing symptoms of a cold which he tried hiding. But despite how sick he was feeling, Hogan kept going to Klink and complaining about the roof, and reminding the Kommandant that the roof just might collapse unless repaired soon._

_"C'mon, Kommandant…achoo!" Hogan explained a bit hoarsely with arms wrapped around himself and sniffling. "I'm beginning to feel I'm onboard the Titanic while it's sinking instead of in a POW camp."_

_"Gesundheit," Klink said._

_"Thank you, sir. Now about the roof…."_

_But Klink wasn't in the mood and let Hogan know he felt the American was exaggerating and that he was dismissed._

_"But Kommandant, I…achoo!"_

_"Gesundheit," Klink said again, then added, "I said dismissed, Hogan!"_

_Grumbling under his breath, Hogan issued a sloppy salute and exited the building. He suspected he was either losing his touch with Klink, or his cold was affecting him. Turning up his jacket collar, he hurried down the steps, and ran across the soggy compound back to the barracks hoping not to get too wet in the process. But when he finally got back inside the barracks, he found his team impatiently waiting for him. But before he could open his mouth, Kinch and Newkirk quickly grabbed him by each arm and started dragging him in the direction of his quarters while LeBeau went to stand watch at the barracks door._

_"Don't ask any questions, Colonel," Kinch said with a devious smile. "Just hurry!"_

_"Schultz is coming!" LeBeau said in a low voice with urgency._

_"Stall 'im, mate!" Newkirk requested as he and Kinch got Hogan into his quarters._

_"Here, sir," Kinch replied forcing Hogan's pajamas into his hands. "Put these on and get into bed. And hurry!"_

_"But what is…." Hogan started looking at his men._

_"Just trust us, Colonel," said Newkirk. "We don't have time to explain."_

_Wondering what his men were up to, Hogan decided to go along and unzipped his leather jacket._

_Meanwhile, in the common room, LeBeau and Carter had been pressing their combined weight against the barracks door trying to keep Schultz out until they noticed Newkirk and Kinch emerge from the Colonel's room with Kinch giving them the 'A-okay' sigh with his thumb and forefinger as he and Newkirk sat down at the table and began playing gin. Seconds later, LeBeau and Carter stood aside as the door opened and a drenched Schultz walked in._

_"Who was holding the door?" He asked looking between the four men, as water dripped from his outer coat._

_"You're crazy," said LeBeau, pouting as he began pouring hot coffee for the others. "The door always sticks when it's been raining a lot. You ought to know that by now."_

_"Hey, could you lot keep it down a bit," Newkirk muttered, looking annoyed. "The Colonel's very sick and needs his rest."_

_"What are you talking about?" asked Schultz. "I just saw Colonel Hogan leave the Kommandant's office. He seemed all right to me." He shook his finger at the men. "You are up to some monkey business."_

_Kinch feigned looking offended. "Schuuuuulllltttzzz, how can you even think such a thing? Colonel Hogan's got pneumonia according to Wilson. Besides, you know how the Colonel is when he's sick."_

_"He doesn't like us worrying about him," said Carter._

_"Started out as a cold," Newkirk admitted. "Probably developed into bloody pneumonia because he's been getting wet in his quarters."_

_"From all the rain that's been leaking into his quarters," Carter added._

_"Also, there's no place we can move his bed anymore where the rain won't fall on him," interjected LeBeau, worried. "But what does the Kommandant care? The Colonel asked him several times to fix the roof but he refused each time."_

_"I do not believe you. You are all up to something. I will check on Colonel Hogan myself and report back to the Kommandant." Schultz made his way into the American's private quarters with Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk following; once inside, the guard gasped at what he saw. Hogan lay on his bottom bunk, his head flopping back and forth, eyes closed, covered by blankets, his face drenched with sweat._

_"He looks terrible," Schultz said to the three men behind him._

_"It's the fever," Kinch explained. "Last time we took it the reading was 102."_

_Schultz cautiously approached the bed and touched the back of his hand to Hogan's forehead and gasped at how warm the American felt to his touch. He stepped back._

_"Colonel Hogan is burning up! I must tell the Kommandant! He will have the roof fixed immediately. In the meanwhile, you must get Colonel Hogan well!"_

_"We'll do our best, Schultzie," said Newkirk as the rotund guard shoved past him and the others before leaving the barracks. They all heaved a sigh of relief that Schultz hadn't noticed the candles burning beneath the lower bunk which caused their commanding officer's 'fever.'(2)_

_**(End of Flashback) **_

Kinch chuckled recalling the incident. Poor Schultz. He had bought the entire thing hook, line, and sinker. He remembered how Klink had next burst into the barracks, and after seeing how gravely 'ill' his Senior POW officer was, knowing that if something bad happened to Hogan that General Burkhalter would blame him, immediately ordered the roof of barracks two to be fixed, and for Hogan to be moved immediately to the infirmary which the men managed to talk Klink out of by pointing out it wouldn't do the Colonel any good to be moved while it was still pouring outside when it would be easier to have Wilson brought to the barracks instead, which Klink readily agreed to. That recollection brought a smile to Kinch's face as he remembered that Hogan was able to improvise and have it seem so natural on his end. And after his conversation with Forbes, Kinch truly believed there was some Robert Hogan in his commanding officer as well.

Inhaling and exhaling through his nose, Kinch brought himself back to the current moment. Now, for the next part of his plan to be put into motion. He picked up the receiver.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Sergeant, connect me with Major Desmond's office, and when he arrives, show him into my office immediately."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

"And Sergeant, make sure he knows I'm acting under the authority of General Forbes in case he gives you any difficulty."

"I understand, sir."

After hearing the Captain disconnect the call, Sergeant Kinnelon proceeded to dial the Major's number while sensing there was going to be major trouble between Desmond and the Captain. Kinnelon had heard the rumor floating around about Kinch and Captain Winger, but like Lieutenant Devlin, he didn't believe it either. And although he hadn't worked for Captain Kinchloe very long, he had been there long enough to form his own opinion of the man; and he believed the Captain to be a good, decent, and hardworking man who wouldn't hurt anybody, and especially not a woman. Kinnelon also had heard the rumors about Major Desmond and suspected them to be true although he had had no dealings with the man himself. But he did have dealings with people who had, and the stories they told made his skin crawl, especially regarding the man's feelings about and dealings with blacks.

"This ought to be interesting," Kinnelon told himself as he listened to the phone ring on the opposite end.

* * *

(1) Dick Tracy was a long-running comic strip created by Chester Gould making its debut October 4, 1931 in the Detroit Mirror.

(2) The use of the candles under the bed to make a prisoner feel hot and appear feverish, was used on General Schmidt in the episode The Prisoner's Prisoner, Season 1.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 24**

On the sixth ring, Kinnelon heard someone pick up the phone.

"_Desmond."_

"Major, this is Sergeant Kinnelon. Please hold for Captain Kinchloe."

"_Tell your boss I don't have time…."_

"He's acting for General Forbes, sir." Kinnelon heard a deep sigh on the other end.

"_Very well."_

It took a few seconds for the call between the two men to be connected.

"Major, this is Captain Kinchloe."

"_Just what is it you want, Captain? I'm a busy man."_

"I'd like you to report to my office immediately. It's concerning the attack on Captain Winger."

"_I heard something about that. Personally, I believe you attacked that poor girl. Everybody knows you have the hots for her." He chuckled. "What's the matter? You couldn't take no for an answer so you decided to just take it?"_

Kinch smirked, knowing the man was trying to anger him. "You'd like to think I did this, wouldn't you?" he asked. "Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but I was with General Forbes the entire time. So are you saying the General is a liar?"

"He very well could be lying to save your sorry ass as he was a friend of that nigger-loving dead boss of yours." Desmond hadn't considered Kinch would be with the General the entire time; afterall, Winger had indicated that the Captain was coming to pick up a report and would be alone.

While Desmond's suggestion that General Forbes was a liar upset and angered him, it was his derogatory reference to Hogan which nearly caused Kinch to lose control, and he quickly fought to keep a lid on his emotions as it was essential if his plan was to work. "Major, I need you to report to my office immediately. There's something we need to discuss and I'd rather not do it over the phone. And before you tell me you don't have the time, just let me remind you that your career in the military hinges on you doing so, and I am acting for General Forbes as well. I'll expect you within the hour. Goodbye." He hung up not giving Desmond a chance to respond. Checking his watch, Kinch knew despite Desmond's hatred of him, he would arrive in his office within the allotted time. So, Kinch spent that time preparing what he would say to the man as the second part of his plan was about to take place.

* * *

Decker removed the headset and sat it on the table beside the listening device. _That stupid fool, _he thought to himself. _I ordered him to wait until we got rid of Forbes before attempting any move against Kinchloe as Forbes was protecting the good Captain. _He rubbed the back of his neck as he told himself he had to get in touch with Schmidt and have the bug removed from Kinchloe's office before the security team arrived later and found it. It's not that Decker was concerned with protecting Desmond, hell, he couldn't stand the man; it was that he was concerned that he believed the Major would sell his soul if he thought it would save his miserable life by disclosing what he had done. "_Desmond's usefulness has come to an end," _Decker told himself. "_Instead of having Schmidt dispose of Williams, I will first have him dispose of Desmond. Then, I will find another way to get Forbes and Butler together so Williams can dispose of them."_ He put the headset back on his head wanting to hear the conversation between Kinch and Desmond so that he himself could plan how to rid himself of one troublesome Major.

* * *

Kinch looked up from his paperwork at the sound of knocking on his door. "Come in," he announced. He saw the door open and Sergeant Kinnelon stood in the doorway, looking nervous.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Sir, Major Desmond is here to see you." The expression on the young man's face told Kinch the Major was in one of his moods and would be trouble. But he was ready.

"Very well," Kinch said calmly. "Show him in."

"Yes, sir." The Sergeant stood aside. "Major, the Captain will see you now." Kinnelon held his breath as the Major brushed past the young man and into Kinch's office. Giving his commanding officer a concerned look telling Kinch silently he'd be right outside if he needed him, Kinnelon closed the door leaving the two men alone.

Kinch, leaning back in his chair, smirked at the Major as he pyramided his fingertips in front of him. "Sit down, please, Major."

Staring daggers at the Captain, Desmond crossed his arms across his chest. "I'll stand if you don't mind. Now, what is it you want?"

"I just thought you'd want to know that you are not going to get away with what you did to Captain Winger despite the fact that she's in a coma and on life support."

Desmond arched both eyebrows at this news. He hadn't thought she had struck her head that hard when she fell. "What _I_ did to….?" He chuckled. "You're nuts! Everybody knows the two of you have the hots for each other. And you obviously don't know your place if you think you can put your hands on a white woman even though she's trash who…."

Kinch slammed his hands so loudly on his desk that it nearly caused Desmond to jump. "Major, at this very moment, General Forbes is speaking with security to inform them that the two of us were together the entire afternoon so there is no way I could have done what you're claiming I did. That should put a stop to the rumor you decided to start spreading. And as for Captain Winger, I resent how you speak about her."

"Huh! Naturally you'd say that! I guess it's true when they say trash is attracted to trash."

Kinch fought to control his temper. "And just so you know, Major. Once Captain Winger's father arrives, he will have to make a decision no parent should have to make, and that will be whether or not to remove his daughter from life support. I hope you're proud of yourself, Major." Kinch paused to let his words have the desired effect he hoped they would. He noticed the man before him pale slightly, and decided to forge ahead. "I also have something even more important to discuss with you, and I suggest you might want to sit down. Something for which you will face the death penalty for."

The Captain noticed the man before him stiffen slightly, despite trying to maintain his arrogant stance. "Oh? And what might that be may I ask?" Desmond asked.

"Your participation in the murder of General Hogan and three others for starters," said Kinch.

This time the Major slowly sank down in the chair in front of the Captain's desk, his head slightly bowed. "That's a lie," he murmured sounding more confident than he actually felt. His subtle change in expression and body language didn't escape Kinch's observant eyes.

"I somehow don't think so," Kinch replied leaning forward with hands now clasped in front on top of his desk. "You hated the General since he reported you to your commanding officer, had an official letter of reprimand entered into your file, both of which cost you a timely promotion. It's not too much of a stretch of the imagination for anybody to believe that you were complicit in his murder. And you didn't care that three other innocent people would die as well as long as you got your revenge on the General." Kinch smirked eying the man in front of him. "It must have really upset you to find out in the end that General Hogan had Major Bergman accompany him instead of me at the last minute."

Desmond's mind was a whirlwind right now and wasn't really paying attention to what Kinch was saying as only one thing kept repeating itself over and over. _The death penalty?_ Deep down he had never given it any thought; but now that it had been mentioned, he found he had to.

Kinch rubbed his chin. "Major, I suspect you have something you want to tell me. However, I don't want to discuss anything here where we can be interrupted at anytime. But I am, however, willing to give you the chance to tell me why you did it, who got you involved, and is there anybody else involved. It might go easier on you if you talk."

Desmond didn't move or utter a word. He just continued sitting and staring at his hands, not knowing at this precise moment what to do or say, so thought it best if for now to just keep silent.

"I can tell you need some time to think about things," Kinch told the Major. "But I wouldn't take too long doing it." He looked at his watch. "I will be at the Vintage luncheonette in about two hours. I'm sure you know the place. It's the one our employees frequent when they don't wish to use our cafeteria. We can talk uninterrupted there. And as I don't trust you, I'd feel better in a public place. But I suggest you don't take too long. Now, I suggest you get out of my sight. You disgust me."

Desmond, now moving like an automaton, slowly got to his feet and walked out the door. Waiting a few minutes, Kinch then got to his feet and left his office; he found Sergeant Kinnelon still seated at his desk. The younger man looked up at his commanding officer.

"I just saw Major Desmond leave a few minutes ago, sir. He didn't even speak to me as he was leaving. If I may ask, what happened between the two of you, sir?"

Kinch chuckled. "It's better if you don't know right now, Sergeant," he replied seriously. "But trust me when I say that everything will become known in the end."

"Yes, sir." He noticed Kinch still looking at him. "Can I help you with something, Captain?"

"Yes. I need you to contact the Vintage Luncheonette. Ask to speak with General Forbes. He's expecting my call there." Kinch hoped that the General had arrived at the luncheonette after his earlier phone call and was waiting.

"Yes, sir," said Kinnelon as he looked up the phone number in his card catalogue before grabbing his telephone and dialing. After a few minutes, somebody picked up. "Vintage Luncheonette? This is Sergeant Kinnelon, Pentagon. I'd like to speak with General Forbes please. Yes, I'll hold. General Forbes? Please hold for Captain Kinchloe" Kinnelon handed the receiver to Kinch. "General Forbes holding, sir."

Taking the receiver, Kinch pressed it to his ear. "General, Captain Kinchloe. Yes, sir, it went over just as I expected it would. The hook's been baited and now we have to see who gets reeled in. You did, sir? Thank you for that. Yes, he did accuse me of attacking Captain Winger and said some derogatory things as well and not only about her." Kinch noticed Kinnelon's eyes narrow as he looked up at him having overheard, but he waved his hand indicating not to worry about it. "Yes, sir. I'm meeting with the Major in two hours or so he thinks. Will everybody and everything be ready? Excellent. Yes, sir, I'm leaving right now and will be there in less than an hour. Thank you, General. Goodbye, sir." After hanging up, Kinch looked at the Sergeant. "Sergeant, I am leaving for the Vintage luncheonette. However, if anyone, and I mean _anyone, _wants to see me or speak with me, I am in conference in my office and cannot be disturbed. And I don't care who it is. Not even if the cleaning crew wants to get into my office. Understand, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir, understood." Kinnelon suspected something serious was going on and that the Captain was not only in the middle of it, but that Major Desmond was somehow involved as well.

"One thing, sir," he said gently.

"What's that?" asked Kinch.

"Whatever it is, sir, be careful."

Kinch smiled at his subordinate. "Always am," he said.

* * *

Forbes, after speaking with Kinch, looked up at the owner of the luncheonette who was working behind the counter today as he was short-handed. The two men knew each other well as Forbes and Hogan had frequented the establishment quite often, and both men were good customers, friendly with the employees and good tippers. Also, as Hogan was an eligible bachelor, he was considered a good catch, and his good looks and charm had the waitresses in the establishment vying for his attention every time he came in, even when he was engaged. Forbes had always found it funny watching the waitresses with their eyes on Hogan, while Hogan himself, although flattered by the attention, found it embarrassing.

Forbes looked at the owner while putting his words in order. "Harvey, I have something to ask of you and it's urgent."

"Sure, General," Harvey replied seeing the General's face and suspected something was not right. "What do you need?"

Forbes exhaled deeply. "We have proof that General Hogan did not die in a plane crash as originally believed but was murdered. We need your establishment for several hours to set a trap for one of the conspirators and…."

Harvey held up a hand. "Say no more, General. For General Hogan we're at your disposal. He was a good man and his death was a damn shame. How long do you need the luncheonette for?"

"I'm not sure. Several hours I would think. And the Pentagon will compensate you and your employees for lost wages while we're using the place."

"Whatever you need, General," Harvey replied seriously.

"Thanks. I'm sure Rob would appreciate it." Forbes looked at his watch. "I need to call security and have them send people here to pose as customers, and someone will replace your wife as the cashier. Also, Captain Kinchloe will be here shortly to assist us. We'd prefer all of your customers who are here now to be out of here as soon as possible. We don't want any civilians in jeopardy. So, can you get everybody out of here, say, within the next thirty minutes?"

"You want it, you got it." Harvey then gazed out at the customers who were filling the luncheonette. "Listen up, everybody. I have an important announcement to make that you all need to hear."

As Harvey talked, Forbes cupped one hand over his ear to shut out the background noise while he spoke with security on the phone and instructed them as to what he wanted done and there was no time to waste doing it.

* * *

Decker was angry, exceedingly angry. Not only had Desmond disobeyed his orders about Forbes, but now the man had not only drawn unwanted attention on himself with his thirst for blood against Captain Kinchloe, but he had also drawn unwanted attention on Hogan's death where previously there had only been suspicions and rumors. Now he had both Williams _and _Desmond to worry about. Both men had tunnel vision; Williams with Newkirk and Desmond with Kinchloe. And to make matters worse, he couldn't reach Williams at all.

He thought about what Oskar had told him after he had broken into Butler's home and tore the place apart searching for whatever he believed Butler was hiding, and managed to get into the safe where he found the file on Hogan's death. He had seen blood on the floor but didn't know who's it was. After scanning the file and destroying the contents, Decker had tried contacting Williams without success. After the fourth attempt, he drew two possible conclusions. One, Williams was dead and it was his blood on the floor; or two, the man had taken off. But after finding out the Englander was in the hospital having received a gunshot wound, and that General Butler was staying with Hogan's men at the hotel, Decker figured it was more likely that the blood on Butler's floor belonged to the Englander, and that afterwards the man took off knowing the punishment for following one's own agenda instead of given orders. But he did start wondering why Butler, if staying with Hogan's men now, didn't take the file with him? He would have. But was it possible the General didn't want to risk taking the file with him because he planned on returning to his home and didn't want to risk something happening to the file? Didn't matter as Decker now had and destroyed the file and its contents. And as for Williams, Decker would have the man hunted down and taken care of after everything was over.

But now, the main problem was Desmond. And as he was meeting the Captain in two hours according to the bug, he'd have to have Schmidt take care of the Major permanently. He grabbed the receiver and dialed the phone number for maintenance. After waiting for a few seconds for someone to pick up, and then after telling whoever it was on the other end he wanted to speak with Andrew Wyler, Decker waited patiently.

"_This is Andrew Wyler."_

"Wilhelm, this is Bruno."

"_What do you need me to do?"_

"I need you to perform a job for me and dispose of someone."

"_Captain Kinchloe, sir?"_

"No. I need you to get rid of Major Desmond. He has gone astray and is drawing unwanted attention to himself. I will leave it to you as to how you do it. But it must be done today within the next…." Bruno checked his watch. "….hour and a half. He is meeting with Captain Kinchloe at the Vintage luncheonette at twelve o'clock today and I believe he will talk to save his own miserable life. I don't want him returning to the Pentagon."

"_But what about the Captain, Bruno? Surely if Desmond talks, the Captain will also need to be dealt with. Shouldn't I just remove both of them?"_

"No. Without Major Desmond, whatever he tells the good Captain will be hearsay only."

"_It will be handled."_

"Excellent. And after that is done. I need you to clean Captain Kinchloe's office before five p.m. The good Captain is leaving at four-thirty, and having his office swept for listening devices and we don't need that bug found."

"_It will be done."_

Decker smiled knowing he could always count on Schmidt. The man was a good soldier. "One last thing, Wilhelm. After we take care of Major Desmond, I think it will be time for you, me, Williams, Kurtz, and Oskar to disappear for good." He didn't want Schmidt to know that Williams might be dead. "Call me after the problem has been addressed."

"_Yes, sir."_

Decker immediately hung up the phone, then went to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a snifter of whiskey and sank down into a comfortable chair, put his feet up on the coffee table, and with a deep sigh possibly of contentment, casually sipped at his drink.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 25**

Major Desmond warily walked into the Vintage luncheonette and looked around hoping to see Kinch already waiting, but no such luck. In fact, not only was there was no sign of Kinch anywhere, but the place was unusually full of customers. He studied the faces of the people in the luncheonette, and immediately recognized perhaps three or four of the customers as people who he had seen in the building and he waved at them when they noticed him and waved at him and returned chatting with their luncheon companions.

He then spotted an empty stool at the counter between two large men eating their lunch,

and an empty table in a corner which had a good view of the door; he chose the table and

sat down to wait. Looking around, Desmond found the cashier was unfamiliar to him as was two of the three waitresses. One of the waitresses he recognized, a redhead, approached his table carrying a menu.

"Like to see a menu, Major?" she asked with a smile.

Desmond shook his head. "Just a cup of coffee right now, Susan. I'm waiting for somebody."

Susan started to turn away when Desmond's voice stopped her. She turned back.

"Where's Harvey's wife, Millicent?" he asked gesturing to the stranger working the cash register. "And I don't see Annie or Rachel either."

"Millicent's got a bad case of the flu," Susan explained. "So has Annie and Rachel. I'm the only one who isn't sick yet. Even Harvey is a bit under the weather and couldn't make it in today. We were grateful just to get Ruby and Harriet to fill in. I'll be right back with your coffee, Major." Desmond didn't respond. He simply nodded as Susan walked away and continued to watch the door.

Glancing at his watch, Desmond noticed it was going on eleven-forty-five a.m. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't even react when he heard the sound of a cup and saucer placed in front of him. Suddenly he heard the little tinkle of a tiny bell above the door indicating somebody had walked in. Expecting it was Captain Kinchloe, Desmond opened his eyes and looked up only to see Andrew Wyler walking in. He paled instantly as the man scared him and had since their very first meeting, although he had no

idea exactly why that was. He noticed Wyler glancing around before his eyes finally fell on him. He smiled faintly at the Major, but other than that, gave no indication he even knew or noticed the man. Wyler then sat down at the counter and ordered a cup of coffee.

After the waitress behind the counter had poured Wyler a cup of hot coffee, he picked up the saucer, and leaving his seat at the counter, walked casually to the table where Desmond was seated and sat down across from him, his eyes focused on the man.

"Hello, Major," he said quietly. "I understand you are waiting for somebody. A Captain Kinchloe I believe."

Desmond nervously looked at the man across from him. "Why are you here?" he asked shakily. "Did he send you?" Desmond suspected the man with the light brown hair had sent Wyler even though the Major didn't know his name.

Wyler took a sip of his coffee. "What are you going to tell the good Captain?" he asked.

"Nothing," Desmond replied knowing he was lying. "I'm not going to say anything about any conspiracy against Hogan. I swear I won't."

"What conspiracy are you talking about, Major Desmond? Everybody knows the General's plane was struck by lightning and crashed. What makes you say there was a….what did you call it….a conspiracy?"

It was then that Desmond realized something was seriously wrong and that Wyler had been following him. He recalled the last words the man with the brown hair had spoke to him in his office that day about how easy it would be to get rid of him, and guessed he had either become a liability suddenly, or somehow the man had found out about Captain Winger and looked at it as him having his own agenda instead of doing as he was told and well paid for. But Desmond was determined not to go down without a fight or alone.

"You know _damn_ well there was! I was asked to get you into the Pentagon as a member of the maintenance crew so you could spy on the General for your friend who wanted to play a joke on him."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wyler said calmly. Then, he leaned forward and continued in a low voice causing Desmond to lean forward as well to be able to hear what was said. He leaned back with eyes ablaze and face a deep crimson.

"Don't you threaten me. I said I won't talk and I meant it." Desmond looked at his watch again and noticed it was now twelve-fifteen. Where the hell was Captain Kinchloe? _"I never thought I'd actually __**want**__ to see that nigger show up_._ Of all the times for him to be fucking late," _he told himself.

Wyler smiled deviously. "I'm afraid that's not good enough, Major. You see, he is very concerned that you will sell him out to save your own neck, and he just can't allow that to happen. So, here is what is going to happen. You are going to very slowly get up and leave this place with me. And I suggest you do it quietly and look normal doing it." He noticed Desmond anxiously looking around for somebody, anybody, he could get help from. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Major," Wyler said anticipating what the older man was considering. He noticed out of the corner of his eye one of the waitresses at the table behind his talking to the couple at the table, and made sure his actions were casual as he reached into his jacket pocket. His hands gripped the butt end of the weapon inside. "Now, let's go, Major."

Slowly, Wyler started rising from his seat when he suddenly felt the cold hardness of a gun pressed against the base of his skull and the sound of a safety being released.

"I suggest you remove your hand from your pocket and do it slowly," the waitress standing behind him said coldly.

Wyler thought for a few moments about maybe trying to shoot it out with the woman, or possibly trying to overpower her, but his eyes quickly noticed several other 'customers' now having drawn weapons and they were aimed at him. He also noticed that Desmond seemed as honestly surprised as he was by all the drawn weapons. He felt the muzzle of the woman's weapon press harder against his head**. **He released his grip on his weapon, and after removing his hand from his pocket, calmly raised both hands where they could be seen. Additional armed 'customers' soon joined them. Wyler was jerked to his feet, his weapon confiscated from his pocket, and after he was thoroughly searched, his arms were roughly yanked behind him with handcuffs clamped tightly on his wrists.

Just then, a back door to the luncheonette which served as a back room and/or storage room opened, and out stepped Kinch and General Forbes, both men looking grimly at Wyler and at Desmond as he was helped to his feet with someone's hand holding his arm before both arms were yanked behind his back and another pair of handcuffs were put on him. After he was cuffed, both men were turned so that they faced the Captain and the General.

"You set me up, you nigger!" Desmond hissed angrily glaring at Kinch who maintained his composure despite the insult hurled at him.

"Correction, Major," Kinch said. "I merely used the listening device our friend here planted in my office knowing once it was overheard that you were suspected of complicity in the murder of General Hogan and others, and knowing you'd sell out your own mother to save your neck, whoever hired you would probably not trust you to keep your mouth shut and send Mr. Wyler here, or should I say Wilhelm Schmidt, to shut you up before you could talk." Kinch looked at Schmidt. "How am I doing for starters, Schmidt?"

"You have nothing on me," Schmidt said coldly, looking at Kinch with disdain. "And I will tell you nothing!"

"That's where you're wrong," Kinch explained pointing to a small flower pot in the corner of the table with three artificial daisies in it which were on all the tables in fact. "The General and I heard every word you both said over the listening device inside the vase. We have it all on tape." He looked at Wyler. "And even though you didn't reveal anything specific, I'm sure it's just a matter of time before we can connect you to everything."

Wyler didn't reply; instead, he reached back into the deep recesses of his mouth and spat into Kinch's face causing the Captain to step back in shock. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and retrieved a handkerchief.

Forbes quickly placed himself in front of his senior aide as he wiped the spittle from his face. "Get both these bastards out of my sight!" Forbes ordered angrily.

"What's the charge, General?" asked one man.

"Conspiracy to commit murder, four counts, and murder, four counts. And for Major Desmond here, add the assault on Captain Winger."

Schmidt struggled as he was being led away. He smirked at both Kinch and Forbes maniacally. "You can't keep me here!" he hissed. "I am a German national! I demand I be returned to my homeland!"

"Get them out of here!" Forbes insisted.

As the two men were finally led away with Schmidt mouthing a stream of German obscenities, Forbes turned to Kinch. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

"I'll live," Kinch replied sticking the handkerchief back in his pocket.

"Looks like your plan worked, Captain," Forbes said returning his smile with one of his own. "What now?"

Kinch sighed. "I know from Stalag 13 that Schmidt won't talk. But Desmond is the weak link in all this. I suggest we use him to lure Decker out into the open. Also, what did security find when they checked the maintenance logs for the crew who worked on General Hogan's plane that day? Anything at all?"

"You were right there also. There was an Oskar Darwin on the crew that checked out Hogan's plane. I believe the MPs should pick him up immediately."

"I agree," Kinch replied. "We're not going to be able to keep Williams' death and the arrest of Schmidt and Desmond a secret for very long. And if word leaks out somehow, the others are going to run and we may not catch them at all. We'd best take each one down when the opportunity presents itself. And there's something else to be considered."

"What's that?"

Kinch sighed wearily. "Schmidt works in employee maintenance under the name Andrew Wyler. Decker may just try to reach him regarding Desmond. If he finds out Schmidt's been arrested he's gonna run and we may never find him ever. His boss needs to be contacted and told that if anybody calls and asks for Wyler, that person is to be told he is out of the office and cannot come to the phone. It may buy us at least twenty-four more hours."

Forbes nodded in agreement. He started towards the phone in the luncheonette. "I'll make the calls now. Hopefully they can arrest Darwin without incident. After that, I'll contact maintenance and instruct them what to do just in case." He picked up the receiver and dialed while Kinch talked with several members of security who took part in the take-down of Major Desmond and Wilhelm Schmidt.

* * *

LeBeau and Carter, having returned to their hotel, each poured themselves a snifter of whiskey first before sitting down on the sofa with the manila envelope on the table in front of them. Taking a sip of the amber liquid and letting it burn as it slid down his throat, LeBeau then picked up the envelope, and with a look at his friend, nervously opened it and removed the folder.

"There may be things in this file that upset us, mon ami," the Frenchman reminded the American. "We must be prepared for whatever we see inside."

"I know," Carter replied apprehensively. "But what could we possibly see in this file that can be worse than knowing exactly how Colonel Hogan died?" He saw LeBeau purse his lips and slowly nod in agreement. The Frenchman then slowly opened the folder.

The first few items they noticed were merely copies of the reports they had received in the coffee shop which got their investigation started. There were also newspaper clippings of the crash and some articles about the late General Hogan and the other passengers on the ill-fated flight; all of which they had already seen when they did their research at the library. Finally, they came across an article on the death of a Sergeant Michael Bremer, 27, in a jeep accident. According to the article, the cause of the accident was due to drunk driving. The Sergeant, according to one of his close friends with whom he had been drinking that night, said to the best of his recollection, Bremer had only had maybe two beers but wasn't really paying attention, and that Bremer had told him he had an appointment and had to leave, but seemed okay enough to drive when he left. Several hours later the Sergeant was dead, his jeep having collided head-on into a barricade. It was never discovered with who the Sergeant had a meeting with.

"Holy Cow," Carter said after reading the clipping. "I wonder why General Butler had an article on this Sergeant Bremer?"

"Here's why," the Frenchman replied holding up the first of several handwritten pages by General Butler. "It seems this Sergeant Bremer had contacted the General and wanted to speak with him about the Colonel. All he had told the General over the phone was that he

had overheard a conversation between two men, one of whom he recognized as being with the maintenance crew who worked in the hanger on the planes, and they were talking about Colonel Hogan and the crash. But he didn't want to say what he overheard over the phone, and wanted to meet instead. But he died in the jeep accident the same night they were suppose to meet before he could." He looked at Carter. "I'm willing to bet this Sergeant Bremer overheard something about the plot against the Colonel."

"You think so?"

"Oui. It's the only thing that makes sense." LeBeau's eyes widened when he looked at the next page. "Look at this, Andre."

"What is it?"

"The General wrote down that the Colonel came to him a few hours before the plane crash and told him he had been receiving phone calls at work threatening him for at least a month, and then more recently the calls started coming to him at home. He says the Colonel told him the caller would tell him to remember Stalag 13 and then hang up," LeBeau explained.

"Y'know, something bugs me about that," Carter said, looking puzzled. "What I mean is, I can't see Colonel Hogan ignoring being threatened for a whole month and not doing anything about it. Not telling anybody sure because he didn't want people to worry about him. But he wouldn't just ignore it altogether."

"Je consens, mon ami," LeBeau replied grimly. "But from these notes, it seems the Colonel at first thought it was some sort of gag being played on him, so probably they were just hang-up calls at first." He saw Carter nod his understanding then.

LeBeau sighed as they went through more handwritten notes. "It seems General Butler

didn't start his own covert investigation until after the Air Force had closed their own inquiry stating that the official cause of the crash was the plane being struck by lightning. It was during his own inquiry that the General began receiving phone calls threatening him as well. Looks like that was when he retired and apparently confiscated the Colonel's file before he left."

"What's this?" asked Carter picking up what appeared to be a handwritten note. LeBeau looked at it with him.

"It is addressed to the four of us," LeBeau said as his eyes landed on the greeting. "Mon Dieu! Listen to this, Andre…." He then read the message aloud to Carter:

"To Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk….You four are my last chance to get justice for Hogan. Learning of the crash which took Hogan's life broke me in the realization my dear friend was gone along with three other fine men. I refused to believe it was only a simple crash as the Air Force claimed, only because Rob had told me of the threats he had been receiving.

It is this reason that I could not let things go, but to continue with my own investigation, I had to retire and get out. I took the liberty of confiscating Rob's file from the Pentagon and make a copy which I have hidden behind the false back of my wall mirror; the original is in my wall safe. I know I am being watched and have been since I retired. I will feed the information in this file to you a bit at a time, so that you four can continue the investigation for me as I doubt I will be alive to reveal the truth which is that Hogan was murdered. Murdered by people who crossed his path while he was in Stalag 13. For I am dying from a recurrence of cancer, and have only six months to live.

I also believe whoever these people are they had help from somebody in the Pentagon but I don't know who. Ifthis copy has fallen into your hands it means the original has been stolen or destroyed and that I am probably dead. But if this copy has been found as well, then the guilty will get away with murder. But should you four have this file, guard it and it's contents, and find out who killed Hogan and the others. Best wishes, General Butler.'"

LeBeau felt the stinging of unshed tears as he put down the letter and looked at Carter; the younger man was wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Poor General Butler," the younger man said sadly. "I can't even imagine how he must've felt trying to prove the Colonel was killed all alone while being threatened the entire time."

"Neither can I," the little Frenchman said. "He was a brave man, and I am just as proud to call him my friend as I am you, Kinch and Newkirk."

"What's this?" asked Carter picking up another set of handwritten pages from the folder. The two men studied them together.

"Look at this!" LeBeau exclaimed with widened eyes. "This says the Colonel was involved in an accident driving to the Pentagon a year before the plane crash." The Frenchman went on to explain how Hogan had been driving to work when he slowed down to make a turn when his passenger-side rear tire suddenly blew out. Hogan fought to maintain control of his vehicle and nearly crashed into a tree, but managed to stop the vehicle before he had an accident as there were other vehicles on the road at the time."

Carter was confused. "I don't get it. What's so unusual about a blown tire?"

LeBeau continued studying the documents. "He explains that when the Colonel got out of the car to change the tire, he noticed it was practically blown apart. A good Samaritan who had been driving a few feet behind the Colonel saw the tire blow and stopped to help him change the tire." He turned the page. "Mon Dieu!" he repeated.

"What?"

"Listen to this. According to what he wrote here, the Colonel, after changing the tire, then drove to a garage, and had a new tire put on his car in place of the spare. He then drove to the Pentagon. Apparently Kinch noticed the Colonel had arrived late and seemed a bit rattled, but when he asked what was wrong, the Colonel told him he had blown a tire while driving."

"I understand. I've blown a tire while driving before. It's scary."

"Oui, so have I. But the Colonel told General Butler that just prior to the tire blowing, he had heard a sound similar to a rifle shot, and then the tire blew, but he didn't want Kinch to know about it because he would worry, especially after the letter the Colonel received at home later that same day which had been slipped under his door while he was gone."

"What letter?" asked Carter.

LeBeau turned the page again to reveal a full-page copy of a car ad with the rear passenger-side tire crossed out with an X with the words 'Remember Stalag 13' printed in block letters across the ad. "According to the General, after Colonel Hogan died in the plane crash, he suspected the blown tire had been the first attempt to murder the Colonel."

"Wow!" was all Carter could say as LeBeau picked up another set of stapled handwritten papers.

"Sacre Chat. It seems a second attempt was made on the Colonel four months later. According to this, the Colonel had stopped at a diner to have dinner alone, and was en-route home driving along a familiar short-cut as it was very late, and despite the time, there were at least three or four other vehicles present. The Colonel then notice a dark blue vehicle suddenly speed up and pull up beside his ramming him on the driver's side causing the Colonel to struggle to maintain control but he couldn't and his vehicle ran off the road and down an embankment where it finally came to rest against some rocks. The Colonel was knocked unconscious. When he came to, there were two men trying to help him before the police arrived minutes later as did a tow truck. The Colonel escaped with cuts and bruises and a sprained right wrist."

"What happened then?"

"Let's see. The Colonel gave the police what information he could about the car that side-swiped him. But the two men who helped him couldn't add anything as they only saw the Colonel's car go down the embankment and stopped to help. They saw nobody when they reached the spot of the accident. The Colonel rode to the repair shop with the tow tuck driver."

"Jeez," Carter muttered. "Did they ever find the car or the driver?"

"According to Butler, neither the vehicle nor the driver were ever found. But once the Colonel arrived at the repair shop, he phoned Kinch and had him come and pick him up. When Kinch arrived, he saw the condition of both the Colonel and his car, and immediately drove Colonel Hogan to the local hospital to have his injuries treated despite the Colonel claiming he was fine. Discovering he had a mild concussion from striking his head on the steering wheel, he was kept in the hospital overnight and released the next day. Kinch picked him up and drove him home after he was released."

"Wait a minute," Carter said. "I'm confused. Why would that be important to General Butler?"

LeBeau scanned further down the page. "Here's why. According to this, the Colonel told General Butler that just before his car was rammed, and he couldn't be positive, he swore the driver purposely swerved into him."

"Did the Colonel tell this to the police?"

"Non," said the Frenchman. "As he couldn't be certain, he only told General Butler. Combined with the first accident, both the General and Colonel Hogan believed someone was out to kill the Colonel."

Carter's jaw dropped. "Did Kinch have any opinion on the second accident? I mean, he never said anything to us about it."

LeBeau continued scanning the handwritten page at the bottom. "General Butler said that Kinch was worried about the Colonel when he saw the condition of the Colonel's car, but that Hogan blew it off claiming some kid was speeding and sideswiped him before taking off down the road and not stopping."

Carter's eyes widened. "And Kinch believed it was only a hit-and-run? Boy, the Colonel was lucky both times he wasn't killed."

"Oui," said LeBeau. "But we must ask Kinch about this second accident when we see him later. Maybe he can tell us more than what General Butler has."

"Boy," Carter said with a weary sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "General Butler sure found out a lot of stuff on his own." He paused for a moment. "But at least Colonel Hogan confided in the General about his suspicions."

"Oui. I guess all this was too much for the Colonel to keep to himself. And as he didn't want Kinch to know somebody was out to kill him, he needed a confidant. He probably figured if Kinch knew, he would want to find the person who was after him and become a target as well, and the Colonel would want to protect Kinch by keeping him out of it."

"But, didn't telling General Butler make him a target?" asked Carter.

"Non. General Butler did not get involved in any investigation until after the Air Force closed their own investigation. In other words, whoever wanted to harm the Colonel had no idea General Butler was looking into anything until then, so, he was safe until much later when he conducted his own investigation."

"Boy," Carter mumbled with a shake of his head. "Say what you want about these people, but you have to admit they're good."

LeBeau shook his head disapprovingly. "Perhaps. But we will find them no matter how long it takes or where we have to search." He exhaled deeply. "They must be made to answer for the Colonel."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 26**

Oskar Darwin was standing atop a ladder bent over the engine of an airplane, working, grease staining his coveralls and hands, when he heard someone call his name. Reaching into his back pocket and removing a rag, he wiped his hands as he turned to see his boss standing below.

"What's up?" Darwin asked calmly despite seeing the distressed look on his boss's face.

"Oskar, there are MPs here and they want you to come with them," his boss announced.

Darwin climbed down the ladder slowly, his eyes focusing on the three MPs standing just inside the entrance to the hanger, their eyes focused solely on him. This could not be good. Nervously looking around, he noticed the closed side door and closed back door and wondered if he made a run for either one, would he make it before one of the MPs caught up with him. He also suspected the Military Police had additional guards posted outside both exits just in case.

"What for?" he finally asked his boss struggling to remain calm. "I haven't done anything."

"I don't know," his boss replied nervously; he hated MPs coming into the hangers as it always meant trouble somehow, and that was what he suspected now. "Just go with them and see what they want."

Sticking the rag back in his pocket, Darwin folded his arms across his chest, his eyes still on the MPs. "I'm still working on this plane engine," he explained.

"It'll still be here when you get back. Look, the sooner you see what the MPs want, the sooner you can get back and return to work."

Still Darwin procrastinated. A sixth sense told him why the MPs were in the hanger asking for him. He decided his half-brother, Bruno, would not cut and run, but would go out like a man, and so would he. He held his head high and walked calmly in the direction of the guards, one of whom was reaching a hand to his belt and removing a set of handcuffs.

Darwin stood stoically in front of the three guards while he boss and co-workers watched the scene with interest

"I'm Oskar Darwin," Darwin announced proudly. "What can I do for you?" There was almost a sarcastic tone to his voice.

"Turn around please, and place your hands behind your back," said the guard holding the handcuffs; Darwin did as he was instructed.

"What am I being arrested for?" Darwin asked innocently.

"You pissed somebody off," one of the MPs remarked, honestly not knowing why they had been ordered to arrest this man.

"And just whom am I supposed to have pissed off?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," The MP told him in the same business-like tone of voice. The guard fastened the handcuffs tightly on the man's wrists and with the others, led him out of the hanger with Darwin's co-workers and boss standing around with their jaws hanging open and eyes wide.

* * *

General Forbes entered the outer office along with two members of security, a Sergeant and a Corporal, and Forbes was glad to find the office empty of employees. He recalled phoning Desmond's commanding officer, Major Matthew West, from the luncheonette and not giving any reasons, ordered the Major see that Desmond's office was empty of personnel. That way, he and a security team could search the Major's office as they had no idea who, if anyone else there, might be working with Desmond. West, although confused by the order obeyed, promising to have all personnel in Desmond's office come to his office upstairs in thirty minutes for a staff meeting, and could easily keep them there for two hours. Forbes said two hours would give them plenty of time. The last thing Forbes ordered was that West would tell those under Major Desmond's command, that the Major was temporarily reassigned someplace else for awhile, and that any and all problems could be referred to him (West) for now. The last things he needed was to have to deal with those in Desmond's personnel on top of everything else right now.

"We are going to search this office from top to bottom," Forbes informed the men. "I'll look through his desk, you two search the rest of the office. There has to be evidence in here somewhere that can be used as leverage against the Major, Andrew Wyler and Oskar Darwin." What Forbes knew about Desmond was that he was not a stupid man. He would not keep things in plain sight for someone to easily find. "And make sure to check for hidden compartments. Keep in mind we only have two hours." That said, the two guards began searching bookcases, file cabinets, and other things, while Forbes began his search of Desmond's desk. He searched through each drawer carefully including removal of the drawers themselves and checking behind, underneath, in back of them, and even checked for false bottoms inside the drawers; he even searched the spaces the drawers fit into for hidden compartments. Finally, he only had two drawers left, and he was frustrated as he had come up empty so far. Another thing he knew about Desmond was that he never did anything unless there was something in it for him; and joining a conspiracy against Hogan wouldn't have been any different. There had to be something somewhere.

Upon opening the bottom drawer, the General again found nothing of interest inside and practically slammed the drawer closed only to notice it didn't close all the way, as if something was blocking it. Pulling the drawer completely out and after looking behind, under, in back, and inside for a hidden compartment, got down on his knees and peered into the open space. It was there he noticed what looked like a savings account book hidden along with a small notebook. Reaching inside, he removed the items carefully. Looking through the notebook caused his eyes to bulge and his jaw to drop. The notebook was a journal of daily entries by Desmond from the moment he joined the conspiracy including names, dates and places. In other words, it was a roadmap leading to all the guilty parties but mainly Desmond's part in things.

It also listed the amounts of money he was paid along with when and for what. Forbes felt positively ill as he read some of the items. But when he got to the last page, he nearly vomited. Desmond had been ordered to get him and General Butler together for the express purpose of having both men killed by a Samuel Castleman whom Forbes now knew was Jack Williams. The only thing missing was anything about the attack on Captain Winger. He figured Desmond must have done that on his own. Then, he opened the bank book, and was further stunned when his eyes fell on the amounts of money and the number of deposits made.

Forbes suspected when he compared the notebook and bankbook that the amounts in the notebook would match those amounts of the deposits exactly. There were several thousand dollars by his estimate; much more than was possible to be saved on a Major's salary, especially with Forbes' knowledge of Desmond's alimony and child support payments eating up a good chunk of the man's pay. He flipped through the rest of the pages of the bankbook until he came to the first page, then noticed the date of the first deposit of five thousand dollars was made a eight months prior to Hogan's death on March 13, 1954. Forbes felt his stomach twist into knots, and could feel the bile rising in his throat. There was no way the man could have saved up this much cash during that period of time until now.

"Find something, General?" asked one of the guards.

"I think I just found the incentive for Major Desmond's involvement," Forbes said with disgust on his face and in his voice. "He was obviously paid tidy sums of money for whatever it was he was doing and the first payment made to him was months prior to the crash of General Hogan's plane. Also, he's been receiving periodic payments since then." Forbes handed the bank book and notebook to one of the security guards. "Hold onto these for me. Have either of you found anything?"

"Nothing yet, sir," each guard said independently.

Forbes finished searching the bottom drawer finding nothing else. Lastly, he opened the middle desk drawer. The first thing that caught his eye was a folder which he thought he recognized. Picking it up, he opened it and was both furious and horrified when he read the contents.

"That bastard!" the General hissed referring to Desmond know realizing the depths of the man's hatred.

"What is it, General?"

Forbes didn't explain that the contents of this file were forwarded by General Hogan to St. Louis six months before his death. Apparently his request was approved despite one or two documents missing, and the file was to be returned to the General for him to secure the additional documentation. The file was received by Major Desmond who was suppose to return it to General Hogan and didn't. Instead, he hid it in his desk drawer. The General must have believed his request was either denied and was waiting to get back his file, or that a decision had yet to be reached. Regardless, he died before he could follow up on it."

"Sir, do you want us to take that file also?"

Closing the folder, Forbes tucked it under his arm. "As it has nothing to do with the investigation, I'm going to see this is handled appropriately." He sighed and glanced around. "There's nothing else in his desk. Continue with your search of this office, Sergeant. When you're finished, I want you both to report to my office and bring everything you find with you."

"Yes, sir" said the Sergeant as he and the Corporal exchanged salutes with Forbes.

Forbes opened the door of Desmond's office and nearly collided with Sergeant Hightower.

"Sorry, General," he said nervously seeing Forbes face. "We have a five-minute break in our staff meeting with Major West, and I just hurried back here to get something and was on my back to his office. Is there something I could help you with?"

Forbes exhaled deeply through his nose. "No, Sergeant," he replied more harshly then he intended. "Just carry on with what you were doing."

"Yes, sir," the Sergeant replied saluting. After giving a hasty return salute, Forbes turned and walked briskly out of the outer office, followed seconds later by Hightower. He wasn't really in the mood for chit-chat right now, and wanted to get started on the documents that were needed to complete Hogan's last request.

* * *

Kinch returned to his office, and grabbing his briefcase, quickly stuffed the envelope from MI6 inside before locking it and then leaving. But before he left the building, he needed to stop at General Forbes office, phone LeBeau and Carter, and inform them he was leaving and to meet him at the hospital in Newkirk's room; Kinch wanted all three of them to see the photos of the suspects all at the same time. Also, he decided to tell Forbes he wanted to have his office swept again for listening devices, and to have the bug on his phone removed and destroyed. This would forever stop any and all information from leaking out of his office, and to make certain there were no _new_ listening devices. He hoped by the time he reached his commanding officer's office, that Forbes would know whether the man who sabotaged Hogan's plane was in custody which would leave the ringleaders, Decker and Kurtz, still at large, and Kinch was already planning how they could catch Decker as they probably had only seventy-two hours to do it, if that.

Both Kinch and Forbes arrived at the General's office within ten minutes of each other. Having spoken to security and been advised of Darwin's arrest, he called the hospital to check on Winger. In fact Forbes was just hanging up his phone when there was a knock on his door. "Come in," he ordered. The General saw Kinch walking through his door, and quickly placed another folder on top of the one he had found in Desmond's office. It wouldn't do for Kinch to see what had been Hogan's final request.

"Leaving for the day?" he asked tiredly eying his aide's briefcase.

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied. "But before I leave, do you have a few minutes, sir?"

Forbes smiled and gestured to the chair in front of his desk and watched as Kinch collapsed onto the cushioned chair with his briefcase on his lap. "What's the problem?" he asked.

Kinch exhaled through his nose. "Well, first, has Oskar Darwin been arrested yet?"

"Yes. I spoke with security a few short minutes ago and was told he is in custody. They arrested him at the hanger. That makes four of the conspirators we've captured, and to the best of our knowledge, there are two more to catch."

Kinch smiled for the first time. "Good. Sir, how's Captain Winger? Have you heard anything new on her condition?"

Forbes exhaled. "I spoke with her doctor when you knocked on my door. "She's holding her own even though she's still unconscious. But the doctors are optimistic. But main thing is she's still alive and will get better. I believe that sincerely and so should you, Kinch." Forbes noticed Kinch nod his head in agreement. He knew how his aide felt about Winger and wished times had been different so that Kinch and Winger could give their relationship a chance. But he also knew unless things and peoples' ways of thinking changed drastically, it wouldn't stand a chance, and for that he was sorry. They both were good people whose only difference was their skin color; and that was all people would see.

Kinch let a small smile appear. "I will, sir," he said softly. He sighed wearily. "General, you should know Carter and LeBeau went to Butler's home. Apparently there was a wall safe behind the wall mirror. He sent a photo of the wall mirror to Newkirk. But whatever was in it was gone by the time they got there. Butler's home had been ransacked."

"Damn," Forbes murmured under his breath. "What now? We have no idea what the late General wanted you four to see."

"I know," Kinch said with a sigh. "But now that we have Schmidt and Desmond, I'm requesting my office be swept for bugs again for any new devices, and to have that listening device already there removed and destroyed. We don't need it anymore."

"I'll take care of it for you," Forbes assured Kinch. He paused for a minute. "Kinch, I have something I feel you should know and it's going to upset you and the others when they find out."

"What is it, General? You've got me worried now."

"A search was made of Major Desmond's office." He then went on to explain the contents of both to the Captain. Kinch was stricken once Forbes was finished.

"You're telling me Major Desmond accepted money to help set up and murder the General? Is that what you're telling me?" not really believing it but knowing it was true. He bit his lower lip as he struggled to control his emotions which were threatening to erupt. He blinked back the tears which were threatening to fall as well.

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."

Kinch took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Rest assured Desmond will pay," Forbes promised. "You have my word on that."

"Thank you, sir." Once he regained control of his emotions, Kinch opened his briefcase and removed the envelope received from MI6 and handed it to Forbes. "I received this today. They are the latest photos there are of the six men we know are involved."

Forbes opened the envelope and after removing the photos, studying them, and committing each face to memory before putting the photos back in the envelope and returning it to Kinch who put it back in his briefcase. "Some of those photos aren't too far off with the way some of them look now," the General replied. He looked at Kinch's face. "What else?"

"I'd like to use your phone to contact LeBeau and Carter so they can meet me at the hospital. We need to update Newkirk on the latest."

Forbes picked up the desk phone and placed it in front of Kinch. "Go ahead," he said then folded his hands on top of the folders.

Picking up the receiver, Kinch dialed his friends and after the phone rang several times was about to hang up when he heard a click on the other end.

"_Bon jour?"_

"LeBeau, it's Kinch."

"_Mon ami. Andre and I were wondering what happened to you. Are you all right?"_

"I'm fine. I'm calling from General Forbes office. I just wanted to tell you I'm leaving the office and to meet me in Newkirk's room at the hospital. We have some things to go over and we should do it together. Also, we've arrested another conspirator."

"_Who, mon ami?"_

"The man who sabotaged General Hogan's plane." There was a long moment of silence before LeBeau spoke again.

"_I am glad to hear such good news. Andre and I have important news for both you and Pierre. Remember that photo General Butler sent Newkirk of his wall mirror? The one that hid the wall safe behind it?"_

"Yeah. You told me the safe was empty and everything in it was gone."

"_We were wrong, mon ami."_

"You lost me," Kinch said, confused. "What were we wrong about?"

"_There was a false back on the wall mirror. The General hid a copy of whatever was in his wall safe behind the false back on the mirror. We have a copy of the file he wanted us to see."_

"You're kidding," Kinch said excitedly.

"_Non. We will bring it with us to the hospital for you and Pierre to see. Andre and I have gone over everything in it." _

"Louie, that's great! I'll see you both soon. Bye." Hanging up the phone, Kinch smiled broadly and his enthusiasm was noticed by Forbes.

"I get the impression LeBeau gave you some good news," said Forbes. Kinch quickly explained about the secret of the photo of the wall mirror. "What a relief!" Forbes exclaimed. "Apparently Butler realized that Newkirk would discover the false back on the mirror considering his somewhat colorful past history. And since Hogan's original file has been probably destroyed. As quickly as possible, we must make several copies of what's in that file as one of them will have to remain with the Pentagon. I think it's advisable that your four and I each have a copy to be safe. Until this over, a single copy isn't safe, as it could be lost or stolen, and then we'd be out of luck."

"I agree, General," Kinch replied, "And I'll take care of it. I'd better be going." He slowly got to his feet. "When I come in tomorrow, sir, I will update you on what's in the file and give you your copy."

"Good. I'll await your report."

"Before I forget, sir, what's going to happen regarding those rumors Major Desmond started about me and Captain Winger?"

"I spoke with security about everything, and we both agreed after Major Desmond's arrest becomes public knowledge in a few days, then hopefully these rumors will be put to rest. Can you tolerate things for a few more days?"

"Yes, sir. Anyway, we have to keep the Major's arrest secret else the two remaining conspirators will go underground before we catch them. Sir, I believe Major Desmond can lead us to Decker. And we'll need to move quickly on him."

"You have a plan?"

"A partial one. I just need to work out the details tonight. Tomorrow we start tightening the noose around Bruno Decker, and then Kurtz."

Forbes sighed. "Just so you know, I've asked security to discretely begin a thorough investigation of everybody here seeing as we don't know if there are any others besides these six. I hope not."

"Good idea, General. I also hope there's nobody else. I'll see you tomorrow." He saluted Forbes who returned it before leaving the office.

Forbes waited until Kinch had closed the door behind him before he uncovered the hidden folder and opened it. It still angered him thinking of what Desmond had done. He began reading the documents to see exactly what was missing.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 27**

Newkirk, still intent on getting out of the hospital early, was sweetly chatting up the nurse who was checking his vitals, and turning on so much charm that he knew if Clarissa had been there in the room, she'd had clobbered him. He noticed the nurse studying him with an amused expression, and immediately saw by her expression that she wasn't buying any of it. Apparently, the nurses had been warned he would continually try to get discharged before his seventy-two hours were over.

"You're doing very well, Mr. Newkirk," the pretty blond nurse said; her nametag showed the name Rossiter. "All your vitals are excellent, and your injury is healing nicely."

"Then I can get out of here, luv?" Newkirk asked smiling sweetly focusing his green eyes on her blue ones. "I promise I'll take it easy. You have me word."

"Forget it, Mr. Newkirk," Rossiter replied. "Doctor's orders. But if all goes well, you can leave here the day after tomorrow. But not before."

Newkirk shook his head and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, luv. Me mates need me. They're expectin' me to help them with something very important. You have to let me out of here." He smiled sweetly at her. "What's your first name, luv?" he asked just as sweetly.

Nurse Rossiter smiled sweetly at Newkirk. "You can call me Captain," she said. She chuckled seeing Newkirk's smile become a frown.

"Boy," said a voice. "The nerve of some married people."

Both Newkirk and Captain Rossiter looked around and noticed Carter leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his face, and LeBeau standing beside him with an amused grin and arms folded. Carter looked at the little Frenchman. "You think we should tell Clarissa how her husband flirts so shamelessly with the nurses to get what he wants?"

"Naaaah," LeBeau quipped. "She's married to him, and probably already knows anyway."

"Very funny, mates," Newkirk growled staring at the duo who were laughing as they stepped into the room. "I thought you chaps forgot about ole Peter Newkirk."

"Forget you, mon ami? Never. Besides, you know where we live anyway." Standing beside the bed, the two men became serious. "How are you feeling, Pierre?" LeBeau asked.

"Bored and going bloody crackers in here is what I am, mate!" Newkirk glanced at the nurse who was now making notations on his chart which hung on a hook attached to the railing at the foot of the bed. "You gotta get me outta here."

"One more day, Pierre. Just one more day and you will be out."

"It's for your own good," Carter added. "Clarissa would never forgive us if we sprung you outta the hospital early and something happened to you."

"How's it for me own good? I feel fine."

"Well…." Carter thought a moment and then shrugged as the nurse left the room.

"Bye, bye, luv," Newkirk called out after her, then turned his expression back to his two friends. "Answer me question, Andrew. How's stayin' here for me own good?"

Carter smiled. "Well, if you got out early and something happened, Clarissa might clobber you with a skillet and then you'd be right back in the hospital again."

LeBeau stared and shook his head in amazement at Carter's words. "I don't even want to venture a guess as to how he came up with that logic," he said to the Englander.

"I have no idea, mate," Newkirk replied, but inwardly he knew the American was right remembering how upset and frightened his wife had been when he told her he'd only been shot in the arm. His eyes then fell on the envelope LeBeau was holding. "What's in the envelope?"

LeBeau excitedly explained what happened when they arrived at Butler's house and how they found a copy of the file behind a false back on the wall mirror. Newkirk listened in silence and arched both eyebrows.

"Have you seen what's inside it yet?" he asked.

"Oui. Andre and I have both seen what's inside. But Kinch is on his way here, and we thought we would not show you until he arrives, so both of you could see the contents together." He then frowned. "Some of what's inside is distressing."

"How so, little mate?"

Carter sighed. "Some of what General Butler found out shows what the Colonel went through a year before he was killed."

"What are you saying, Andrew?" asked Newkirk, stunned. "Are you tellin' me somebody was after the Gov'nor a full bloody year before his plane crashed?"

"Oui. That is what he is saying, mon ami," LeBeau grimly replied. "Also, we need to speak with Kinch about something we found in the file."

"Talk to me about what?" asked Kinch as he strolled into the room and found LeBeau seated on the side of the bed, and Carter in a chair close by. Kinch grabbed the back of another chair against the wall near the doorway, placed it between LeBeau and Carter, and laid his briefcase down on the bed. He looked at his two friends questioningly.

"Something General Butler found out during his own investigation," said LeBeau.

Kinch nodded. "In a bit," he said. He unlocked his briefcase and after removing the envelope, handed it to LeBeau. "But first I think you guys need to see the most recent photos of our conspirators just so you all know what they look like." He noticed the others exchange looks. The Frenchman removed the photos and as he looked at each one, handed it to Newkirk who, after looking at it, handed it to Carter.

"Sacre Chats!" LeBeau exclaimed while looking at the photo of Schmidt. "I recall seeing this filthy batard one time when Pierre and I came to see you in your office. I recall him staring at me like he knew who I was, but I did not recognize him at the time. Filthy Bosche!"

"Well, he, Major Desmond, and Oskar Darwin are all under arrest right now." Kinch went on to explain what happened at the luncheonette as well as the hanger.

"So this Darwin is the bloody twister who sabotaged the Colonel's plane?" asked Newkirk looking at Kinch, before turning back to Darwin's photo and grinding his lower jaw in rage. "Just give me five bloody minutes alone with this bloke, and I'll straighten 'im out, bad arm or not." He handed the photo to Carter. "I'd soon teach 'im nobody messes with the Gov'nor and lives to talk about it."

After Kinch had collected all the photos and placed them back in the envelope, he returned it to his briefcase and locked it. Leaning forward with both arms resting on top of his briefcase, Kinch turned to LeBeau. "Now, what did you want to ask me?"

LeBeau, carefully placing the envelope in front of Kinch, first explained to him and Newkirk what the envelope contained, and what Butler had discovered. As they listened, both Newkirk and Kinch were at first stunned, then angry. Angry that attempts on Hogan had taken place earlier than they thought, and that the plane crash was in reality, the third attempt on his life, and unfortunately a successful one.

Kinch slowly and with shaking hands, picked up the envelope and removed the folder. Then just as slowly, he opened the folder and began to examine it's contents along with Newkirk. But Kinch found himself pausing at the first set of handwritten pages by Butler. After he quickly read the pages, then saw the attached car ad, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to gather himself. His emotions were threatening to overtake him.

"I knew he was rattled that day when he arrived late at the office, but I had no idea," he said with closed eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looking up saw Newkirk gazing into his eyes.

"It might help if you tell us what you remember, mate," he said gently.

Sighing, Kinch swallowed the lump in his throat. "I guess the best place to start is with what I remember about that day….."

_**(Flashback):**_

_Kinch was the first one to see Hogan that day, and instead of the calm and collected officer he was use to seeing, this Hogan seemed badly shaken, looking almost as if he had just stared death in the face and somehow got away. In fact, the last time Kinch had seen that look on Hogan's face was at Stalag 13 when he feared that their operation had been compromised by an SS agent posing as a prisoner._

"_Sir? Are you all right? Is there something wrong?" Kinch asked confronting the General as he was heading to his office. "Is there anything I can do for you?"_

_Hogan removed his cap and ran a hand over his still thick, but graying hair. "I'm all right, Kinch," he said with a slightly shaky voice. Secretly, he still couldn't believe until this very moment exactly how close to death he had come. He forced a smile onto his face and hoped it looked natural. "I just blew out a tire as I made a turn on the road on my way here. No big deal." He was hoping Kinch would buy it._

_Kinch's eyes narrowed as he put a hand on Hogan's shoulder; he could feel the General's body was tense. "Sir, are you __**sure**__ you're all right? A blown tire while driving in traffic is a bit scary in itself. You're just lucky you didn't have an accident." Something told the aide the General wasn't being completely truthful; but as in Stalag 13, Hogan would talk only when and if he wanted to and not before. Trying to force it out of him would do no good._

"_Tell me about it," Hogan replied after taking a deep breath. "I nearly crashed head-on into a tree after it happened. I just managed to stop my vehicle. Fortunately I had a spare tire in my trunk and made it to the garage and had a new tire put on my car." He then looked at his watch. "I'm late for a meeting with General Butler and have to run." Without waiting for a reply from Kinch, Hogan abruptly turned, hurried from the room, and out the door leaving a very confused and concerned Captain Kinchloe staring after him._

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Seeing the Captain's face, Newkirk became concerned. "What's the matter? Didn't the Colonel have a meeting with General Butler as he said?"

Kinch exhaled deeply. "No, he didn't. If he had, I would have known. Of course, it could have been a last minute meeting and that's what I thought it was. I had no idea…." He paused for a few minutes. "I had no idea he told the General he had heard a rifle shot just prior to his tire blowing out while he was driving. He could have been killed a year ago and nobody would have suspected a thing. That incident surely must have thrown him off his game as well as rattled him. I mean, the General didn't scare easily even after the war. Then to find this car ad waiting for him at his home reminding him of Stalag 13 must have really thrown him." Kinch looked first at Newkirk, then Carter, and lastly at LeBeau. "Why didn't he come to me and tell me. We shared everything. He could have told me."

"Mon ami, that is precisely why he didn't come to you."

"I don't understand," Kinch said, although he really did.

"You know the answer as well as we do," LeBeau continued. "The Colonel wouldn't have wanted you to worry about him; and you would have if you're honest with yourself. And if it is true that they were after the Colonel the year before, that knowledge would have made you a target as well, and the Colonel would never have let that happen."

"I could take care of myself," Kinch assured them. "Besides, I worked with the General on a daily basis. I could have helped him investigate what happened quietly and perhaps together we could have caught those responsible before he died in that crash."

"Heck, Colonel Hogan knew that," chimed in Carter. "But even in Stalag 13 he didn't want or like us worrying about him. He felt it was his job to worry about us, even after the war ended. If he knew or even suspected we still worried about him after the war, he would have been real mad at us."

"You're right, of course," Kinch concurred. "But look what keeping it from me got him in the end. It got him killed."

"That's true, mate," Newkirk said gently. "But the Gov'nor always said as far back as Stalag 13 he would give his life for us. You couldn't help him then, mate, but you are now. You're helping to make sure the bloody bastards what took 'im away from us don't get away with it. It's all you and us can do for 'im now. So don't go beatin' yourself up over it."

Nodding his head slowly, Kinch let out a deep breath. "I guess you're right." He and Newkirk then went over the other papers until they came to another set of handwritten pages. With narrowed eyes, Kinch hastily read them and became angry. "I remember this," he hissed.

"What is it?" asked Newkirk quizzically. Kinch handed him the handwritten pages and waited as the Englander read them. He noticed Newkirk's face darken.

"Those bloody bastards!" the Englander remarked coldly. "They tried again four months later!"

_**(Incident Kinch Didn't know Beginning of):**_

_Hogan raised a shaky hand and rubbed his forehead as the pain in his head pounded mercilessly. His entire body ached and was sore. And there was a deep bruise forming on his forehead where it had struck the steering wheel. What the hell had happened? He faintly recalled leaving his office later than normal and deciding to stop at a diner he normally drove past for dinner as he was starved. So, he stopped and had what turned out to be an excellent steak dinner topped off with a big slice of apple pie which, although not as good as the one made by his mother, was still delicious. He then left to drive home and decided instead of taking the long way, would take the seldom-used short-cut to his place. After that, his memory was a bit hazy. _

_He faintly recalled getting into his car and switching on the radio to listen to some relaxing music as he drove and began to hum along with a tune he rather enjoyed. So oblivious was he while he drove, that he didn't notice a dark-colored vehicle pulling alongside him; it's driver staring at him. Hogan had glanced briefly at the driver and nodded, and for a split second thought the man looked familiar somehow, but couldn't exactly place him. Then without warning, the driver sharply yanked on his steering wheel causing his car to slam into the driver's side of Hogan's._ _The impact of the two vehicles caused the General's vehicle to swerve a bit but he managed to maintain control. Then, the driver again slammed into the side of Hogan's vehicle causing the General to struggle even more this time to regain control. What was this person trying to do? _

_Hogan was fully aware he was nearing the part of the road that, if a person went off the road, would tumble down a deep embankment, possibly to their death. He tried to get ahead of the other car before reaching that part of the road, but just then the other car slammed into his again and he lost complete control. His car skidded off the road and careened down the embankment, his forehead slamming onto the steering wheel before the car came to rest against some rocks jutting out from the ground. The General, woozy from the blow to his head, fell over sideways onto the front seat and lay there, unconscious._

"_Excuse me? Sir? You okay?" he barely heard someone ask sometime later. The voice seemed to float down to him from somewhere above. He then felt somebody touch his shoulder. "Hey, buddy, you all right?" Why couldn't he open his eyes?_

_He then felt fingers pressing against his throat. _

"_He's alive!" he heard a different voice yell. _

_Hogan tried to, but the moment he let his weight fall onto his right wrist to try and force his body upward, pain shot through his entire arm and he fell back down again groaning. His entire body was sore and painful, his head throbbed terribly, and he felt something wet running down the side of his temple. He weakly touched his good hand to his head and thought he noticed small droplets of blood on his fingers. Also, the pain radiating in his right wrist told him the wrist might be broken. He moaned. _

_Struggling, Hogan finally opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to see at least two strangers standing beside his car, and leaning over, looking down at him. "Who are….what happened?" he asked weakly. God he hurt so bad. Ever so slowly, he again tried to struggle into a seated position, but felt hands gently force him back down onto the seat. He touched a hand to his forehead again and winced. He noticed the sleeves of his uniform jacket were torn and ripped with smears of blood from various cuts. He asked himself just what the hell had happened to him._

_**(End of Explanation of Incident)**_

"When I got the phone call," Kinch explained. "I immediately knew something was wrong although I didn't know what. The General asked me to pick him up at the garage because he had had an accident. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I was not prepared for what I saw. The General's car was badly damaged especially the driver's side door which was smashed inward. The General's uniform was torn and ripped, and there were blood stains here and there. He also had a deep bruise forming on his forehead and there was a cut on his temple that looked worse than it really was. I also thought from the way he was holding his right wrist that it might be broken. I offered to drive him to the hospital but he refused to go. Said he was fine."

"That sounds like the Colonel," said LeBeau softly.

"But his face showed he was in a lot of pain so I told him he could either go to the hospital, or I would call General Butler and he'd make sure he went to the hospital. The General acquiesced, and I took him to the nearest hospital. Fortunately for him, his right wrist was just badly sprained, and he suffered only cuts and bruises. However, because he struck his head on the steering wheel and had suffered a minor concussion, they kept him overnight even though he tried to argue his way out of it," Kinch explained. He had to chuckle a bit at the memory of Hogan's arguing with the doctors who wanted to admit him for the concussion.

"Did the Colonel ever tell you what actually happened to cause the crash?" asked Carter.

Kinch shook his head. "All he told me was that some kid was speeding, sideswiped him, and took off after he lost control of his vehicle."

"But what did _you_ think, mate? Did you believe the Gov'nor?"

Kinch exhaled deeply and looked thoughtful. "Yes and no. I had to believe him on the one hand because I had no reason to doubt him. But after seeing the damage to the driver's side door, I just felt it was something more to the story. But as we all know the General never talked about anything he didn't want us to know until he was ready, if ever." He looked at the handwritten pages in his hands. "But if I had known about this, I would have confronted him immediately and tried to do something to help whether he wanted me to or not. And I wouldn't have cared if it cost me our friendship."

"I'm sure he knows that, mon ami," LeBeau said putting a hand on the Captain's shoulder. "Believe me when I say he knows you, and anyone of us would have given our lives for him even to this day. But he did not want that."

"LeBeau's right, mate. But at least he confided in General Butler about his suspicions."

Kinch smiled slightly. "Thank God Butler kept notes on the information the General confided in him about." He noticed Carter's expression. "What's troubling you?" he asked.

"It's about the accident. I mean, if they intended to kill Colonel Hogan by forcing his car off the road, why didn't whoever was driving finish him off instead of just leaving? I mean, how could they be sure he'd be killed when his car went down the embankment?"

Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk all exchanged looks. It was a question that deserved an answer.

Kinch exhaled. "Only explanation I can come up with is that perhaps the driver's intent was to go down and finish the General off, but noticed those two good Samaritans coming and decided to leave before he could do so."

"And from what I remember of him, that doesn't sound like Schmidt," said LeBeau. "He would have killed the good Samaritans and the Colonel. He wouldn't have cared." The others agreed.

"Could have been Williams," Newkirk added. "He would've been the first to run if someone was about to show up when he was about to do something like kill the Gov'nor. That bloody bastard always thought of himself first anyway from what I recall."

Kinch rubbed his forehead. The thought that Hogan survived that crash possibly because two good Samaritans showed up was more than he could handle right now. Getting a grip on his emotions, Kinch looked at LeBeau and Carter. "Any opinions on this Sergeant Bremer?" he asked changing the subject.

LeBeau and Carter exchanged dismal looks and as he looked at Kinch, the Frenchman shook his head sadly. "Non. Only what the General wrote in his own hand. But both Andre and I both feel this Bremer overheard something concerning what happened to the Colonel and got in touch with General Butler wanting to talk about it."

"Yeah," Carter added quickly. "But they killed him before he could tell what he overheard."

Newkirk bowed and shook his head. "Bloody bastards," he muttered. He tilted his head and looked at Kinch. "How many people is that now that they've killed, mate?"

Kinch sighed wearily. "Including Bremer and Butler, that brings the total count of dead to seven."

"And don't forget the attack on Captain Winger," Carter added.

"Blimey," Newkirk replied with a shake of his head. "Seven people dead all because these blighters wanted revenge on the Gov'nor."

Kinch then looked at the others. "I saved the best for last," he said grimly.

"What, there's more?" Newkirk asked.

"'Fraid so." Kinch then proceeded to let the others know about the journal and the bankbook.

"Baise!" exclaimed LeBeau angrily. "How much was he paid to turn against the Colonel? Do you know?"

Kinch shook his head. "No idea. But I got the impression he was paid several times. Especially considering it took several months to set up the means of the plane crash."

"That twister," Newkirk muttered angrily balling his good hand into a fist and shaking it. "He better hope I never get me hands on 'im."

Kinch chuckled. "I think you'd have company there," he said. He then sighed. "But we still have Decker and Kurtz to find, and Major Desmond is going to help us get him."

"You have something cooking, mon ami?" asked LeBeau with a devious grin.

"I do," Kinch said. "Major Desmond would sell his soul to save himself from the death penalty, and I intend to use that to get him to help us catch Decker. But we can't afford to take too long about it. I believe Decker may only stay put for perhaps seventy-two hours before he takes off, so we'll have to move fast. But before I forget, remind me to make copies of this file before we leave this hospital." He then pursed his lips as he looked at LeBeau and Carter first, and then Newkirk. "General Forbes won't let any of you in the same room when Major Desmond is questioned. But, I think it can be arranged for the three of you to be present when we take down Decker."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 28**

Decker had been pacing the floor of his living room nervously for what must have been at least an hour. He had tried twice contacting Schmidt, aka Wyler, at work only to be told by his supervisor that the man was out of the building and couldn't be reached, but that he would take his message and have him call back when he returned. Normally that wouldn't have bothered Decker, as he knew Schmidt to be a very thorough man, but added to the fact that he was unable to reach Williams either, gave him a bad feeling. Something was definitely wrong. Schmidt was very dependable and could be relied on which was one of the main reasons he was wanted as part of the intimate little group; and the fact that he hadn't heard from him and could not reach him, had him wondering if perhaps Desmond had talked and Schmidt had been arrested or killed. And despite the Major not knowing his name, having been to his home only once, told him that it might be only a matter of time before someone would show up looking for him; that and the man knew what he looked like. And if Schmidt had failed to silence the Major, it _would_ be only a matter of time. Therefore, there was only one recourse left to him.

Ceasing his pacing, Decker walked briskly into his bedroom, opened his closet, picked up two suitcases, and threw them on his bed. Flinging them both open, he began pulling open his dresser drawers and started throwing things into the suitcases. It was then that the phone in his living room rang causing him to stop and look in the direction of the living room. Walking quickly back into the other room, Decker stared at the ringing phone at first hesitant to answer it, but also curious if Schmidt had finally returned and was calling him. He picked up the receiver and after hesitating a few seconds, pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"_This is Major Desmond." _

Decker inwardly cringed at hearing the man's voice. He decided his best course of action right now was to disassociate himself from the Major.

"I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong number," he said and quickly hung up the hadn't survived all these years when he was a spy in England for the Germans by being careless, and it was that same awareness and wariness that had kept him alive to this day. Decker believed with his entire being that if Desmond was calling him, that meant Schmidt was either under arrest or dead, and could explain why he hadn't heard from him. The phone rang again, and he picked up the receiver again.

"Hello?"

"_This is Major Desmond. Don't you hang up on me or you'll regret it."_

Decker exhaled deeply. "You have the wrong number. I don't know who you are. And don't call here again. Goodbye." He hung up the receiver, and quickly poured himself a snifter of whiskey; swallowing it down it in one gulp and slamming the glass onto the counter. He wasn't worried. Far from it. If anything, he was angry; angry that he made the mistake of letting down his guard when it came to Desmond more so than Williams. While Williams was a loose cannon at best, Desmond was a whole different matter. While Williams had a grudge against the Englander, he also had a grudge against Hogan and had no respect for the officer. It was easy to persuade Williams with the promise of doing away with Newkirk once they had made certain they stopped General Butler's personal investigation. Desmond, on the other hand, was focused exclusively on Captain Kinchloe more so than Hogan. The phone rang again. Decker stared at the ringing phone.

Desmond's motive for getting involved was so clear now. The money he received was a definite incentive; but his main objective was seeing a means of getting rid of the good Captain and Hogan and the others were simply collateral damage and nothing more. He had no invested interest in getting back at Hogan as the others did. He now realized he should have cut the man loose after he had gotten Schmidt his job as a janitor. But he didn't, and now he had possibly endangered all of them. The phone continued to ring.

He grabbed the receiver. "Hello?" he asked a bit harshly.

"_This is Major Desmond again. Just so you know, your man Wyler has been arrested. So, if you want me to go away, you will pay me one hundred thousand dollars to keep me quiet."_

"Look, I don't know who you are or what your game is. But I don't appreciate somebody calling me and demanding money. So, if you continue calling me, I will have no recourse but to contact the authorities and have _you_ arrested for extortion whoever you are. So I suggest you don't call me again. Now, goodbye." He slammed the receiver down for emphasis. However, it didn't surprise him when a few minutes later the phone rang again.

Ignoring the constant ringing of the phone this time, Decker walked back into his bedroom and opening a drawer in his nightstand, removed a box. Opening it, he studied the German lugar inside. After checking it to make certain it was fully loaded, and finding it was, he then tucked it into his inside jacket pocket. He believed Desmond might have come in useful in other ways, so he had kept him on the payroll. He now realized that had been a mistake on his part. A mistake he planned on rectifying as soon as possible and permanently. But first things first; he had to disappear before they came for him. It was then he noticed the incessant ringing of the phone had ceased and did not resume.

Decker really didn't really care much about what happened to Schmidt anymore than he cared about what happened to Desmond. They both had served their purposes and he and Kurtz had gotten what they both wanted. Self-preservation was the main objective here. Of course, he could leave the United States and return to Germany where those who still believed in Hitler's way of doing things, would honor him and the others as heroes for bringing about the long-awaited death of the man known as Papa Bear who himself had brought so much death and destruction upon their country, and had escaped the punishment he so richly deserved back then.

Decker smiled. He was a firm believer in that old adage of 'good things happen to those who wait.' And they had certainly waited a long time to get their pound of flesh; but get it they did. And it took three attempts before they got it.

"_It could have been done a year earlier," _Decker told himself as he paused in his packing to study his reflection in the mirror of his dresser. "_Too bad Schmidt couldn't hang around to make sure Hogan died after he shot out his rear tire, but he wasn't close enough to reach him from where he was positioned to take the shot." _He rubbedhis forehead and could feel the pulsating veins in his forehead. _"But our next best chance was when Williams forced Hogan's car off the road and down the embankment. If only he had gone done there and finished him off. Damn the man for thinking only of himself then. All he had to do was put a bullet in the bastard's head and we all could have breathed easier." _He shook his head wearily. _"I should have sent Schmidt instead. It was only two men who stopped to offer assistance. He would have killed both good Samaritans, and __**then**__ finished off Hogan. The others would have been collateral damage is all. But no, Williams didn't want to be caught so he ran before the job was finished. It was a mistake to include him, but he hated Hogan as much as I did."_

Decker could only assume that Williams had probably fled after possibly shooting either the Englander or Butler in Butler's house seeing as he'd been informed by Darwin that there was blood on the floor of the General's house; fled or was dead himself, and now Butler was being protected by Hogan's men. He exhaled deeply. Williams may have gotten away, but he'd be damned if Desmond would escape. He went back to throwing clothes in his suitcases. First he would leave his current hideout and then make his plans.

* * *

Desmond, after hanging up the phone following his latest attempt to phone his unnamed benefactor, exhaled and looked up at his captors.

"He won't answer his phone," the Major replied nervously as he watched the faces of the security guards surrounding him. He could see the looks of anger and disgust on them. "What do I do now?"

One of the guards looked at a Captain who was his superior, the name tag showing the name D. Scarborough on it. "Take Major Desmond back to the holding area," he ordered. "I'll contact General Forbes and let him know what happened. I'll see what he wants us to do now."

"Yes, sir," the young guard replied saluting his superior before he grabbed the prisoner's arm and with the three other armed guards, led the Major out of the room.

* * *

Forbes was going over the file he had taken from Desmond's office when his phone rang interrupting his thought process.

"Damn," he muttered half to himself hating the interruption. With a sigh, he picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear. "Forbes." The General listened carefully to what he was told by the Captain in security. "I see. No, trying again would be a waste of time. Captain, has Major Desmond given you any information as to where we can find this man, Decker? Good. I want you to send two units to his place immediately and contact me the minute you have him in custody. And Captain, I want this man taken alive if at all possible. Excellent. Goodbye." After hanging up the phone, Forbes thought about the two men who had been arrested in the luncheonette and then about the man arrested in the hanger.

Of all the ones now in custody, and the two still on the run, Decker was the only one he was somewhat familiar with, and that was only because during the war, Morrison, with the aid of Hogan and his men, had recaptured Decker when it had been discovered the man was really a Nazi spy, and had infiltrated London headquarters and gathered enough information to destroy not only the underground, but Hogan's operation but fled before he could reveal anything or be arrested. But the others he didn't know at all. In fact, all he knew about Kurtz, Schmidt and Darwin was that they were all German nationals and Schmidt had already demanded he be returned to Germany. Forbes rubbed his chin; they needed some sort of leverage. He suddenly smiled as he picked up the phone.

"Captain Simmons?" he asked when the temporary assistant answered the phone. "Connect me with German Ambassador Ziegler immediately." As he waited to be connected, he inwardly hoped what he was about to do would give them the leverage they needed to use on those in custody with the exception of Desmond, but also on Decker and Kurtz when they were finally caught. Because if it didn't, Forbes wasn't certain they would be able to hold them nor make them talk. Suddenly, he heard the voice on the other end of the phone. "Good afternoon, Ambassador Ziegler. This is General Forbes, Pentagon. We have a situation here that I need to discuss with you and is of the utmost importance to both our countries."

* * *

Schmidt sat alone in a holding cell completely relaxed as if he didn't have a problem or care in the world. He wasn't worried despite how grim his current situation appeared. He chuckled as he thought about the expression on Desmond's face as the handcuffs were fastened around his wrists. The man was a wimp; of that Schmidt had no doubt. Also, the man would sell his soul if it would save his life. While he, Schmidt, was not afraid to die for what he believed in. And he believed in getting revenge on the scum known as Papa Bear and that he had finally been done away with. It had been a long time in coming, but Germany had long last been avenged with the death of the man who had wrought so much havoc upon her during the war. And he would tell them nothing and demand they return him to Germany where those who still believed in the old regime would look upon them as heroes for their actions.

Darwin was seated on his bunk with his back leaning against the wall, thinking and worrying. Thinking about the mess he found himself in, and worrying about whether or not his step-brother, Bruno, was still free, dead, or being sought. He knew that Bruno was smarter than he himself ever was, but the fact that he truly believed he was avenging Germany by helping in the plan to kill her greatest enemy, Colonel Robert Hogan aka Papa Bear. Darwin had to sadly admit he had never even heard of Hogan or Papa Bear until his older brother sat him down after the war and explained things to him. At first he couldn't believe how much this Hogan had been responsible for: sabotage, espionage, and the disappearance of many people; but while listening to Bruno, he was amazed that one man could accomplish so much right under the nose of the Kommandant of a POW camp.

"Hogan needs to pay for what he has done to Germany," Bruno had said. "It is not too late for justice to be served, and we have a plan by which to see he does."

When he had asked his brother who 'we' exactly were, he recalled Bruno would only say they were others who Hogan had wronged as well and felt the same way as he. And that they had tried unsuccessfully twice to kill the man and failed; but for this attempt, Oskar's expertise with aircraft was desperately needed. The younger man knew by this time he would be glad to help get justice for his beloved Germany in any way he could. But he had never, while in his exuberance over what he was being asked to do, consider he would be caught and probably face the death penalty for his part in things. He started wondering seriously if hating and aiding in the death of a man who only did what any man would do serving his country, was worth what he himself was now facing; or had he just been blinded by love for his country and a leader who was leading it to destruction himself.

Desmond was seated on his bunk with his head buried in his hands as he considered his situation and the consequences he was facing. Four counts of first degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder for starters, and also his attack on Captain Winger for added measure. After all, wasn't those the charges listed by the General Forbes as the handcuffs were being fastened? It didn't take a rocket scientist for Desmond to know he was facing the death penalty for his participation in the death of General Hogan and the others. He figured by now they had probably searched his office, and wondered if they had found his journal and bankbook? Hopefully they hadn't. But if they had, everything he had done since he joined the conspiracy was there in black and white. He was secretly wishing he had never seen or met the man with the brown hair that day in the luncheonette. But there was no way out of this mess that he could see. All he could really hope for now was to save himself from the hangman's noose.

He also knew he had very little to bargain. All he had really done was get Andrew Wyler, who he now knew was Wilhelm Schmidt, a job in the Pentagon for the express purpose of spying on Hogan, and had accepted several cash payments for his actions; and, he did remember where the man with the brown hair lived and readily gave security the address. Perhaps his cooperation would spare his life. Then again, maybe not. And if not, Desmond had to see what else he could offer so that he could live.

* * *

Forbes was smiling as he hung up the phone after his conversation with Ambassador Ziegler. He hadn't expected there to be a problem, but he was hoping to head off any possibility. And he found the Ambassador was more than eager to agree with his request after hearing the General's explanation of Hogan's murder and those of the others with him on that ill-fated flight. He found the Ambassador was deeply sorrowful over Hogan's needless death as well as those of the others, and especially regretful and outraged that German nationals were involved in such a heinous act. But he assured Forbes that he had his full cooperation in the matter should he have to call again. Forbes then thanked the man and hung up. Feeling somewhat calmer now, he then went back to the folder open in front of him while he waited to hear from security when they entered Decker's home.

* * *

The two security teams surrounded the house at the address supplied by Major Desmond. On the count of three, they broke into the house with weapons drawn and prepared to return gunfire if fired upon as they suspected their man would not go down easily although their orders were to take him alive if at all possible. But so far, they had been met with no resistance of any kind, nor had they seen anybody.

The teams split up and searched the entire house from top to bottom making sure to check for secret places where a person could hide that were not obvious to the naked eye. After nearly an hour, they reported to Captain Scarborough that there was no sign of anybody currently in the house, but that it looked like somebody had been living there and seems to have left rather quickly from the looks of the bedroom. Clothes were gone and dresser drawers were hanging open and things missing; but most of all, there was a box lying on the bed inside of which was the outline of a gun in the velvet lining.

Captain Scarborough exhaled deeply, not wanting to be the one to contact General Forbes and tell him one of the men somehow involved had gotten away and they had no idea where he had disappeared to. But he knew the task would fall on him.

"What do we do now, sir?" asked another guard, looking at the Captain.

Scarborough shook his head in dismay. "You and the others secure the premises, Sergeant, while I contact General Forbes." He took a deep breath and then let it out. "He's not going to be happy when he hears."

"Yes, sir," the guard replied with a frown. He had heard and known of officers dying before, but had never heard or seen the fuss that had been made over one man as with the death of General Robert Hogan. True he hadn't known General Hogan, had never even met the man, but apparently he was somebody of great importance to everyone. All he really knew for sure was that Captain Kinchloe always spoke so fondly of the man even to this current day. And although he didn't know everything that was going on, or the circumstances involved as they were seemingly a secret at the moment, he found himself just as disappointed as his Captain at the outcome of the search of this house. He turned and walked away to carry out his orders.

* * *

Forbes quickly picked up the receiver of his phone before the end of the first ring hoping for good news.

"Forbes," he said a bit harsher than he planned. He listened to Captain Scarborough's report and cursed under his breath. "Have you searched everywhere, Captain? I see. Very well. After you and your men secure the premises, come back here. I'll have to discuss the matter with Captain Kinchloe and see what he wants to do next. This is his investigation. And Captain, I'm sure I don't have to remind you and your men to keep quiet about this? Very good. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and exhaled deeply. They must have just missed Decker by mere minutes. But he felt confident they would find the man.

"Where are you, Decker?" Forbes asked himself in a low voice. "Where have you gone?" He figured worse case scenario was that they maybe had forty-eight more hours in which to catch Decker before he got away from them possibly for good. But he knew even if the man somehow made it back to Germany, he would not get away, would be brought back to the United States to stand trial for his crimes. Personally, he would not rest until one of the masterminds behind the planning and execution of Hogan's death was brought to justice, and would offer any assistance he could to the four men should they need it. "We'll get Decker and Kurtz, Rob," Forbes said in a low voice. "Don't worry. We'll get all of them for you. The men and I won't give up until everyone of those involved in your murder are behind bars or swinging at the end of a rope. That I promise you."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 29**

Safely housed in his new temporary location, Decker poured himself a snifter of whiskey and downed it quickly. He then poured himself another and then sat down on the sofa, put his feet up on the coffee table, and relaxing, took a sip of the amber liquid letting it burn his throat on the way down. He had to think. Think of Major Desmond. He took another sip of his whisky and felt his lower jaw grinding so hard his teeth ached. _Desmond!_ He swallowed the remainder of his drink in one gulp. Decker was no fool, and knew that without the Major, there would only be circumstantial evidence against him were they to catch him. To him, the plan was simple; Desmond had to be silenced permanently. But how was the question. He knew for a fact that the man would be held under tight security and nobody would be able to get close to him. Still, there had to be a way. But regardless of whether he should succeed or not, Decker planned to leave America and return to Germany the day he silenced the Major and disappear. Being unable to think clearly, Decker got up and turned on the television before returning to his place on the sofa.

* * *

Kinch, Carter and LeBeau tiredly walked into the hotel after leaving the hospital following their visit with Newkirk. As they approached the concierge's counter, the man waved them forward.

"You have something for us?" asked LeBeau.

"Yes," the man turned and removed a folded piece of paper from a mail slot, then turned and handed it to Kinch. "This came for you, Captain. It is from a General Forbes. He asked that you call him as soon as you return to the hotel."

Kinch looked at the paper seeing Forbes' name and office number and stuffed it into his pocket. "Thanks," was all he said quietly. Then, he and the others managed to catch the first elevator that opened and headed to their floor.

Opening the door to Kinch and LeBeau's room, the trio walked inside and after closing the door, decided to order from room service. Kinch left that task to LeBeau to complete while he spoke with General Forbes. After dialing, the Captain waited as the phone rang. He heard a click before the second ring was complete.

"General, it's Captain Kinchloe. I understand you called?" Kinch listened to Forbes as he explained what transpired in his conversation with the German Ambassador, and then relayed the sad news that Decker had escaped, possibly minutes before security teams got to his house.

Kinch really wasn't surprised at the news about Decker; he knew the man was devious and clever, and figured he might have had an alternate hideout waiting just in case.

"_Captain, you still there?" asked Forbes._

"Yes, sir, I'm still here. I was just thinking. I believe I have a plan to bring Decker to us and it involves the good Major Desmond. We'll also need about three security teams."

"_What do you have in mind?"_

Kinch went on to explain his plan to Forbes noticing that Carter and LeBeau, both seated on the back of the sofa listening, and were watching him with wide grins on their faces. He could tell they were getting excited as they listened.

"_It just might work if it's handled correctly," said Forbes with a touch of excitement in his own voice. "Anything else?"_

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied looking at his two friends. "Request permission for Carter, LeBeau, myself, and Newkirk to be present when Decker is taken down, and permission to be the ones to take him down."

There was a pause on the other end. _"Kinch, that could be dangerous. Decker will probably be armed and will kill anybody who gets in his way. I don't feel I can approve your request on this." _

"General, I will abide by whatever decision you make. But let me just add that the four of us need to be the ones to take Decker. We owe it to General Hogan to do it. Besides, we know Decker, and there's nothing he can try that we don't already know. I will see that Newkirk is released from the hospital early tomorrow morning instead of the day after, and then we can implement the plan tomorrow evening. And sir, Newkirk already has a weapon on him; I'll need you to authorize weapons for Carter and LeBeau as well. Do we have your go ahead, sir?"

"_I've trusted your judgment since this investigation began and you've been right each time. And I know you and the others know these people and how they think. And while I admit I don't like the idea of you and the others taking down Decker, I'm going to approve your request, and will see to it that weapons are issued, and that Newkirk is cleared to have his own weapon in his possession. I will handle everything else from this end."_

Smiling, Kinch gave LeBeau and Carter the 'thumbs up' sign. "Thank you, sir. After we get Newkirk, the four of us will come to your office and set everything up. We have to make certain we select the right spot or everything will be for nothing. Goodbye, sir." After Kinch hung up the phone, he turned toward his two friends with a grin on his face. "Gentlemen, tomorrow we take down Bruno Decker."

* * *

Forbes couldn't help but allow the smile to show on his face. He was very pleased at the way things were progressing, and if things went the way Kinch had explained to him, by the end of tomorrow, they would have Bruno Decker in custody leaving only Kurtz to capture.

Yet despite what he had told Kinch, the General still harbored some reluctance at allowing Kinch and the others to be the ones to take Decker into custody; especially Newkirk. After all, the man would be just leaving the hospital after being shot forty-eight hours earlier. And exactly when was the last time LeBeau, Carter, and Newkirk had handled a weapon? Losing Hogan and the others on that transport was painful enough, but if anything happened to Kinch or any other others, Forbes knew he would never forgive himself and neither would Hogan forgive him if he was watching which Forbes was certain he probably was.

Sighing, Forbes rubbed his forehead. "I hope I'm doing the right thing letting your men capture Decker themselves, Rob. If anything goes wrong and something were to happen to one or more of them…." He didn't finish his sentence as a sudden calmness overcame the General. And even though he couldn't explain it, Forbes began to feel confidence that tomorrow would be very successful after all.

* * *

The three men were eating and enjoying a steak dinner and talking excitedly. They had found themselves suddenly ravenous as opposed to when they first entered the room. It was during dinner the trio began to realize they might not be living out of hotel rooms much longer, and it saddened them a bit. They also became aware that when that happened, it would mark their last night together as a team; for afterward, they would all be heading in separate directions home. But they all agreed when the time came, to have a celebratory dinner with just the four of them the day, or night, they caught the last of the conspirators. But for now, they still had things to do.

Both Carter and LeBeau had questions for Kinch about his plan for tomorrow. "Do you think it will work, mon ami?" asked LeBeau as he sipped a glass of the red wine they all decided to have with their dinner for once.

"It's risky I agree," Kinch replied. "But it might be our only chance to catch Decker, because I have a funny feeling that Decker will soon flee back to Germany."

"And if that happens we might not ever get him, right?" asked Carter.

Kinch shrugged noncommittally. "Hard to say, Andrew," he said. "It'll certainly be harder, that's for sure. What I mean to say is that if he manages to reach Germany, there are probably some people there who still believe in Hitler's ways who will protect and hide him. It would be difficult to find him, but not impossible."

"Not to mention there are probably not many members of the underground remaining who could help us," said LeBeau. "And more than likely we wouldn't know who we could trust these days."

Kinch sighed then took a sip of wine. "That's why I think this would be our best shot at catching him. And we're only gonna have one chance at him. So we have to be sharp the entire time."

"How does Newkirk fit into all this?" asked a curious Carter. "We heard you mention we would get him out of the hospital tomorrow morning before we meet with General Forbes."

Kinch sighed. "Newkirk when he was with the RAF, was trained as a sniper. He has the expertise in that regard with what we need him for."

Having finished his meal, Kinch wiped his mouth and then tossed the cloth napkin onto the table. "I'm gonna turn in. I suggest you and Carter do the same. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Goodnight." Kinch got to his feet and started to leave the room hearing 'goodnight ' from the others.

* * *

The following morning, Kinch, LeBeau, and Carter were up early and after having breakfast, headed to the hospital as soon as morning visiting hours began. Walking through the doors of the hospital, Kinch glanced at LeBeau and Carter. "You two go visit Newkirk while I find his doctor and convince him to discharge him. Help him get dressed and then the three of you wait for me in his room."

The three friends separated as Kinch went to the nurses' desk and asked to speak with Newkirk's doctor, while the others made their way to the Englander's room. They found Newkirk seated in a chair beside the window staring out at the sky, elbow of his good arm on the windowsill and his chin resting on his fist.

"Blimey, I hope you two chaps are here to get me the hell outta here?" he asked still staring out the window.

"Hey, that's a pretty neat trick," said Carter, impressed. "How'd you know it was us?"

Newkirk slowly suddenly turned and stared at his two friends. "Because, Andrew, I saw your ruddy reflections in the bleedin' window, that's how."

"We bring good news, Pierre," said LeBeau excitedly rubbing his hands together. "We are here to take you home."

A wide-eyed, slack-jawed Newkirk slowly rose from his chair. "Are you bloody serious? When can I leave and return to help with the investigation?"

"Hopefully soon," the Frenchman continued. "Kinch is speaking with your doctor and making sure you are to be immediately discharged."

Newkirk's eyes suddenly narrowed. "You chaps need me help with something else you wouldn't be springing me from this place," he said suspiciously. "What the bloody hell's going on?"

Carter faked his most innocent look. "What makes you think something's going on?"

Newkirk sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "This is me you're talkin' to, Andrew. The three of you were hell-bent on keepin' me here for the full three days, and now you're all here to spring me. Now, I don't know 'bout you, Carter, but I find that just a bit suspicious."

LeBeau sighed. "You are correct, mon ami. We are springing you ahead of time because we need your help with setting up Decker." He quickly repeated what he knew of Kinch's plan and that they needed Newkirk's expertise as a trained RAF sniper." Finished, he waited for the Englander's reaction to what he said. He saw the expressionless look on his friend's face while he had spoken.

"Well then," Newkirk said with a smile breaking out. "What are we waitin' for? Help me get dressed as me left arm is still a wee bit tender."

It had taken Kinch nearly an hour before he was able to meet with Newkirk's doctor and explained the situation, or as much as he could without divulging anything that matters. The doctor reluctantly agreed to release the Englander with the promise that he would take it easy for the next few days; Kinch readily agreed to that figuring it was just as well the doctor didn't know the real reason they wanted Newkirk released. Reaching Newkirk's room, they found Carter helping Newkirk, who was completely dressed, gingerly put on a clean jacket all of which the guys had brought him during one of their visits.

"Kinch, ole mate. Glad you finally got here," Newkirk said with a grin. He noticed the doctor holding two or three papers in his hand. "Hey doc, just want to thank you for the excellent care I got here. And give me best to Captain Rossiter like a good man."

With an amused grin, the doctor looked at the men. "Here are your discharge papers, Mr. Newkirk, and a copy of instructions for your aftercare. You must take things easy for a few days." He looked at Kinch briefly. "And let me add that I strongly object to releasing you sooner than planned, but you are doing very well and it is not necessary to keep you here. Good day, gentlemen." The doctor handed Newkirk the documents, turned, and walked briskly from the room. Newkirk watched the man's receding back.

"There goes an unhappy man," Newkirk said with a smirk. He massaged his still tender arm before patting Kinch on the shoulder. "Now, let's get the hell outta here and go see General Forbes so we can get this show on the road, shall we?"

* * *

And hour later, Forbes closed the folder he had found in Desmond's desk and exhaled deeply. He slipped the folder in his desk, satisfied now that Hogan's last request would be finalized. He had gotten in touch with the people in question, and after explaining what happened, would wait for the documents they promised would be in his hands in seventy-two hours. After that, Forbes would resubmit the file to St. Louis and request they expedite the processing. He had to make sure until the right time that Kinch didn't see the folder, knowing he would feel badly over it. It was then there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he ordered. He smiled when the door opened, and Captain Kinchloe, followed by Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau walked in. "How are you feeling, Newkirk?"

"Much better, thank you, General," Newkirk replied. He and the others sat down when Forbes gestured to several vacant chairs. Once seated, the three others turned to Kinch.

The Captain let out a deep breath. "General, what's been set up so far to catch Decker?"

Forbes leaned back in his cushioned chair, and pyramided his fingertips in front of him, elbows on the armrests. "Well, so far I have three security teams standing by at our disposal. We again questioned Decker's step-brother Oskar Doust or Darwin, to see if possibly Decker had a secondary location to hide-out in. He denied any knowledge of there being another place."

"He is lying!" hissed LeBeau. "They are brothers. Decker would not keep that information from a sibling. He is a German, and Germans take family seriously. He must be made to talk!" LeBeau paused and swallowed hard. "I apologize for raising my voice, General. It's just that…."

Forbes smiled. "It's okay, LeBeau. I understand better that you know." He exhaled. "We suspected he might be lying as well but not anymore. He might be an adult, but he's still basically a young man, scared, nervous. We confronted him with the fact that the German Ambassador, Girard Ziegler, made it quite clear that those of German nationality, would not be welcome back into Germany; in fact, they would be arrested the minute they stepped off the plane and returned to the United States for punishment if they somehow managed to escape and return to Germany. And that punishment is the death penalty. I could see the fear in his eyes."

"And how did he react to that news?" asked Kinch with knitted eyebrows.

"He was sufficiently distressed," said Forbes. "But he still didn't know anything about an alternate hideout for Decker. I honestly believe he would tell us if he knew." The General sighed. "Seems like Decker is more interested in his own preservation even if it means throwing his step-brother to the wolves."

"And Desmond?" asked Kinch.

A look of disgust crossed Forbes' face. "He knows nothing other than what he's already told us. I sincerely doubt Decker, from what I know of him, would trust the Major with that kind of information."

"Agreed," Kinch added. "Now, let's discuss Newkirk' role and what we need to do."

The Captain then went over what Forbes would be doing and what Newkirk would be doing and that this would all have to be completed as-soon-as-possible as Forbes' part would take place soon afterward. He then looked at Newkirk.

"Think you're up to it, Peter?" he asked.

Newkirk smirked. "I still find that question highly insulting even after the war," he replied.

Kinch, LeBeau and Carter grinned. "So sorry, mate," Kinch replied in his best British accent. He noticed his British friend wince at his attempt to imitate a British accent. Then, out of the corner of his eye he noticed Forbes grinning at the camaraderie between the four men even after all this time. It was a rare thing between men so many years after a war. He knew during war friendships were made and for a while men kept in touch, but then usually the friendships cooled after time because the men drifted apart. But not with Hogan's men. From what he could see, they were still a tight knit group and not just because of what happened to Hogan; but because they still truly cared and looked out for each other.

"Has the press conference been scheduled for two p.m. sir?" asked Kinch.

Forbes nodded. "Just as you requested," he answered. "What happens afterward takes place at five." He saw his aide nod his approval.

"Do you have the map of the area Kinch asked for?" asked Newkirk, leaning forward in his chair.

"Right here," Forbes replied reaching into his desk drawer and removing a folded map and tossing it onto his desk. Newkirk unfolded it and spread if open across the front of the desk. The others all leaned forward so they could see as Newkirk carefully looked over the map at the area surrounding the building they were in. After about several minutes, the Englander pointed to a heavily wooded area on the map.

"This looks like a good spot. But I need to check it out personally of course to be sure," Newkirk said with a glance at Forbes. "How soon can we have a look at it then?"

Forbes studied Newkirk's tired expression knowing the man had left the hospital less than two hours ago. "Are you up to this?" he asked.

Newkirk, his face dead serious now, stared at the General, his green eyes hard. "General, this is for the Gov'nor. Even if I had lost me left arm, I'd be ready."

Smiling, Forbes slowly got to his feet. "Then let's go. I have a vehicle standing by outside waiting for us." He looked at Kinch who was standing now as well. "What about the security teams? Do you want them to join us?"

"We only need two of the teams, sir," Kinch replied. "They should join us as they'll be involved if Newkirk verifies this spot is the one."

Forbes nodded. "Then before we leave, let me phone security and have them join us. This way they'll know what they have to do if this is the spot."

"Good idea," Kinch said. "We'll wait for you outside, sir." Kinch and Forbes exchanged salutes before the four men departed, leaving Forbes alone as he picked up the phone.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 30**

Newkirk wandered around the area looking at and studying every possible angle of the location while Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Forbes glanced around; the two security teams were just standing around watching and waiting. After an hour, Newkirk nodded his approval. Then, he went about explaining where the two security teams should conceal themselves before Kinch took over and explained that nobody was to make a move against Decker until he had committed himself. He went on to explain that Decker was a cautious, intelligent man who could sense a trap in an instant, and that they would have one shot at this. He also pointed out that Decker escaping a second time was not an option; but that the man had to be taken alive if at all possible. Hogan's former team then turned and looked at the General.

Forbes focused his attention on the two security teams. "Just to emphasize this point. Taking down Decker will be solely the responsibility of Captain Kinchloe and his three companions. You men will be supplying the backup they need in the event things don't go as planned. You will be under his command with this assignment." Forbes then turned his attention to the four men standing before him. "I also informed security that Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau are to be given permission to carry a weapon so you'll have no problems there. Is everybody clear on what has to be done." There were no questions. "Good. Then let's make this work."

* * *

Decker sat on the sofa with a scowl on his face as he watched the news on television. Normally he hadn't watched television, especially the news since Hogan's plane crash, and he only watched the news then because he had hoped to find out what, if anything, was occurring in the investigation. But he was bored and angry as he had yet to figure out a way to get close enough to Major Desmond to kill him. He slowly got to his feet grinding his jaw and prepared to turn off the television when an interruption of the program he'd been watching happened with an indicator that it would be a news conference direct from the Pentagon. Decker's hand dropped from the dial and he quickly stepped back to watch. (1)

The first thing he noticed was the man in uniform who was about to speak, was identified as General Montgomery Forbes. He paid close attention to what Forbes was saying as it concerned a secret investigation into the death of General Robert Hogan and others in a plane crash, that foul play was suspected, and one of those suspected of being involved was Major Maxwell Desmond whom they had arrested a day earlier. Forbes went on to state that Desmond was cooperating with authorities, and that other arrests were expected. He then added that the Major was being transferred to the Marine base in Quantico, Virginia as an added precaution, and that said transfer would take place at five p.m. today. Decker quickly shut off the television, and scratching his chin, slowly walked back in the direction of the sofa to sit down and think.

A slow smile began to appear on his face as the realization came to him that this was his chance to get Desmond and then leave the United States and return to Germany immediately afterward. He knew he had a sniper rifle on hand which had been a gift from a long-ago dead friend which had been obtained during the second war. And Decker had never asked where he had gotten it; but he had kept it in excellent condition since obtaining it. He quickly walked to his desk drawer and opening a middle drawer, removed several maps and scanned them until he found the one he wanted; it was a map of the Pentagon and the surrounding area.(2)

Spreading out the map on the desk, he scoured over it until he found the location which he believed would give him the best view of the front of the Pentagon building and a small smile appeared. He now had a plan to execute the good Major from a position that was far enough to not be seen or caught, and would give him the best chance to escape once the deed was done. He would set up about an hour before the Major was moved from the Pentagon to Quantico; after all, it wouldn't do to get there too early. All he had to do was pack all his belongings in his car, secure a one-way plane ticket to Germany, and be gone. After the Major was dead, he would simply head for the airport and be gone before Hogan's men knew what had happened, and without Desmond, all the evidence they had would mean nothing without the Major to back it up. He also knew Schmidt and his own step-brother would not talk; Williams was gone to who knows where, and Kurtz, well, Kurtz could take care of himself. Decker went about gathering his belongings and papers which he would take with him.

* * *

Forbes, Kinch, and the others all sat in General Forbes office trying to relax during the free time they had before they set up. The press conference only ran thirty minutes and Forbes refused to take any questions from the media. After returning to the Pentagon, but before heading to the General's office, the men had been issued Semi-automatic weapons and extra clips just in case. They then continued on to the General's office where Newkirk stretched out on the sofa there while the others sat down to wait until it was time. Forbes looked at his watch; it was now nearing three p.m. He ran a hand over his hair and looked at his aide. The plan had been for everybody to leave his office at three p.m, get into position, and then to wait for their target to show.

"I have to wonder how Hogan didn't go crazy with having to sit and wait for hours when on a mission in Stalag 13," Forbes said. "It's only been forty-five minutes since the press conference and I'm going crazy."

Kinch smirked. "Just so you know, the General wasn't used to it either, sir," he said with a chuckle. "He liked being active."

"Oui. The Colonel was a man of action," LeBeau concurred. "He hated inactivity although it was necessary at times."

"And boy could the Colonel get irritable when he was bored," Carter added. "But not as irritable as when he was tired. And boy could he be irritable then. Why, I remember this one time…."

"Andre, we don't need a trip down memory lane right now," LeBeau said with a shake of his head looking at the younger man. "Besides, we don't have the time."

"Sorry," was all Carter could say.

Forbes smiled at the interaction between the man and marveled at their calmness during their wait.

Kinch glanced at his watch and noticed it was now exactly three p.m. "It's time," he announced to Forbes and the others as he started to get up. He walked over to the sleeping Newkirk and gently shook his shoulder. He saw the sleepy Englander open his eyes and gaze up into his face.

"Is it time, mate?" he asked with a yawn.

"It's time, Peter," was Kinch's reply. "Let's get Decker."

* * *

It was twenty minutes to five when Major Forbes entered the appropriate cell surrounded by a security team, and stood in front of the prisoner.

"Stand up, Major," Forbes ordered. "Turn around, and put your hands behind your back." He waited as the Major reluctantly did as he was ordered, and watched as one of the security team fastened handcuffs on the man's wrists.

"Where am I going, General?" asked the Major staring at Forbes.

"We're moving you to the Marine base in Quantico, Virginia," Forbes explained. You will remain there until your trial. And I suggest you cooperate with them and not cause them any trouble. I understand the Marines are a rough bunch who don't take kindly to traitors within their ranks any more than we do." He then looked at the security team. "Let's get this over with."

Grabbing one of the prisoner's arms, the Major was led out of his cell and into the corridor, surrounded by security with General Forbes leading the way.

* * *

Decker was laying prone on the ground between the shrubbery containing a small opening with an clear, unobstructed view of the front doors of the Pentagon. Raising his sniper rifle, he pressed his eye against the telescopic lens to give his eye a chance to adjust to the view; he found he had an excellent view of the doors where his target would be walking out of. It would only be a matter of minutes now.

He knew his car was parked a few yards away with everything he had brought with him from his main residence along with some important documents he had kept since the conspiracy was formed to cover himself in case he needed a bargaining chip for negotiating purposes. Fortunately for him, those documents were all in code in case they fell into the wrong hands, they would not be so easily decoded by whoever found them. Therefore, their contents would remain a secret.

The front doors of the building below opened and General Forbes emerged. He was followed shortly by several members of security; then, the prisoner surrounded tightly by more security. Decker found he couldn't get a head-shot as three of the security members were of the same height and were blocking the view thus preventing him from getting a head-shot

* * *

. Therefore, he would have to settle for a shot through the heart. As the men walked down the ramp leading to the pavement, Decker's view through the scope was pinpointed on the man's chest and his finger tightened on the trigger. He fired a single shot, and watched as the prisoner's body collapsed to the ground in a heap and Forbes and the security team crouched down and things were in chaos.

Smirking, Decker quickly rose to his knees, then started getting to his feet when he heard the click of a safety being removed from a weapon. He slowly turned to be confronted by the figure of Kinch with his weapon aimed, with Newkirk behind him but just off to the side, his weapon likewise. He then heard another safety being removed. Glancing over, he saw Carter and LeBeau, both with their automatics pointed at his head. With a smirk on his face, he allowed LeBeau to remove the sniper rifle from his hand; then, Decker slowly raise his hands and placed them on top of his head. He was no fool.

"It's a pleasure to see you gentlemen again after all this time," Decker said with a smirk. "But you seem to missing one of your number. Oh yes, Colonel Hogan. I understand he had an unfortunate accident. Something about a plane I believe?"

"You bloody bastard," Newkirk hissed. "Just give one of us a bloody reason to pull the trigger. Just one reason. I'd love to put a bullet in you fuckin' Nazi brain for what you did."

"Newkirk," Kinch warned before yelling for the security teams who emerged from their hiding places and surrounded Decker, their weapons aimed. "Take him into custody, Sergeant," Kinch ordered a Sergeant on one of the teams while glaring at their prisoner. He watched as the handcuffs were fastened tightly on Decker's wrists behind his back.

Decker smirked again. "Too bad Major Desmond is dead," he said. "You have no witness against me. You have no choice but to return me to Germany as I am a German national."

LeBeau arched an eyebrow. "You mean that look-alike you shot?" He saw Decker's head whip around and look at him. "You're lying, you little runt!"

Newkirk moved forward and roughly grabbed a fistful of Decker's shirt and jerked the man so close that their faces almost touched.

"You watch how you speak to me mate, you ruddy bastard," he sneered.

With a smirk of his own, Kinch took the walkie-talkie from one of the security members and spoke into it. "General, is everybody okay down there?"

"_We're all fine,"_ came Forbes voice over the device. _"Our Desmond look-alike is fine also. The bulletproof vest saved him. Otherwise, the shot would've gone straight through his heart killing him instantly. Also, having three guards who were the same height as Desmond saved our man from a possible headshot. Did you get Decker?"_

"We did, sir," Kinch informed Forbes. "And he's alive."

"_Excellent work, Captain. Bring him in."_

"Will do, sir," Kinch replied before signing off and handing the walkie-talkie back to the guard. He watched LeBeau hand the rifle to another guard. "Sergeant, have your men take the prisoner inside. The rest of you, secure this area and the prisoner's vehicle after you search it thoroughly. Bring anything you find in it to General Forbes' office."

"Yes, sir," the Sergeant replied exchanging salutes with Kinch. Then, Kinch, LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk headed in the same direction the four guards leading escorting Decker had gone only a short time earlier.

* * *

Forbes smiled as he released the handcuffs from their 'prisoner's' wrists, and watched the man rub his wrists. "Sorry about the handcuffs, Major Hoffman," he said.

Hoffman chuckled and then exhaled. "They were worth it seeing as you got the man you were after. Just glad I could help in some small way."

Forbes, marveling at the man's resemblance to Major Desmond, frowned at the indentation from the bullet in the center of the bullet proof vest that was under the man's shirt, and said a silent prayer of gratitude that they had decided to have the man wear one as added protection. Forbes didn't even want to envision the aftermath of what could have happened if the vest had not been worn, nor the tall guards used to ward off a potential head-shot. He was just grateful neither had occurred.

"Do you need me anymore at this point, General?" asked Hoffman.

The General shook his head. "No. Go with the medics and have them check you out . And thank you for your cooperation."

"My pleasure, General," Hoffman replied before he turned and went back inside the building aided by a security guard. Forbes then looked at the guards. "Wait here for the others to bring the prisoner in and then join them to make sure our prisoner doesn't try anything. I'll be in my office. Have Captain Kinchloe and his three friends join me when they arrive." He and Captain Scarborough exchanged salutes, then, Forbes entered the building.

As he reached his assistant's office, Captain Simmons handed him two inter-office legal-sized envelopes which Forbes immediately noticed were from the Generals he had spoken with regarding the file Hogan had submitted.

"This came while you were out, sir," Simmons replied. I would have left it on your desk, but I didn't want to take a chance someone else might see it and you said nobody was to see it except you."

"You did fine, Captain," Forbes said as he opened the envelopes and glancing at their contents. "Captain, my Senior aide and his friends are due here soon. Show them right in when they arrive. Afterwards, we wish not to be disturbed by anyone except security. You will show them in as well. Understand? I'll be in my office going over these."

"Yes, sir." He watched the General head in the direction of his closed door, enter his office, and closed the door behind him.

Now alone in his office, Forbes carefully read the documents he had just received and a smile crept onto his face. These documents contained exactly what was required. Reaching into his desk drawer, he removed the file and enclosed the documents inside. He quickly placed the folder in an envelope, but before he did, he attached an inter-office memo requesting the contents of this folder be expedited and a brief description why; then, he thumbed through his Rolodex until he found the address he needed and addressed the envelope. Once finished, he got to his feet and left his office.

"Captain, see that this goes out immediately," Forbes announced handing the envelope to Simmons.

"But, sir, what if Captain Kinchloe and his friends show up while I'm gone?" asked the assistant taking the envelope from his superior.

Forbes smiled. "Don't worry. I'll wait for them until you get back. Just see that this goes out immediately. It's urgent."

"Yes, sir."

As Simmons walked out of the office, A Sergeant with security walked in holding a set of documents in his hand which he handed to Forbes.

"What are these?" the General asked looking through them closely. "They seem to be in some kind of code."

"These were found in the prisoner's car, sir," the Sergeant replied. "We're still going through his vehicle, but these seemed important and Captain Scarborough thought they should be brought to your attention right away."

Just then, Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk slowly trudged into the outer office. Kinch saluted his commanding officer. Forbes returned it with a smile.

"Excellent work, Captain, men."

"Thank you, mon General," said LeBeau.

"What are those, General?" asked Kinch gesturing to the papers in Forbes' hands.

Forbes handed the papers to his aide. "These were found in Decker's vehicle. Sergeant Washburn brought them to me as they seemed important; but they are in code. I was just about to have them taken to our decoding department."

Studying the papers, Kinch's eyebrows knitted. "That may not be necessary, sir," he murmured. He showed the papers to the Englander. "Does this code look familiar to you?"

Newkirk glanced over Kinch's shoulder at the pages. "Blimey, so it does, mate. Of course we haven't seen it in several years, but I think we ran across it at one time or another."

Forbes stared at the two men. "Think you can translate it?" he asked.

"We'd like to give it a whirl, sir," Newkirk remarked looking up at Forbes. "That is if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I'd like to have these documents translated before we question Decker. There might be something we can use to hold over his head during our interrogation of him, so get to it."

Kinch looked at LeBeau and Carter. "Why don't you two head back to the hotel and get some rest. Newkirk and I will be here awhile. We'll let you know what happens later."

"Are you sure there's nothing we can do to help?" asked Carter with puppy-dog eyes.

" 'Fraid not, mate," Newkirk told his best friend. "Not this time anyway."

* * *

(1)Coast-to-coast live television became possible in 1951. Courtesy of .

(2)Sniper rifles were issued to Soviet snipers when the Soviet Union was invaded by Nazi Germany in 1941. The Mosin-Nagant was the standard issue weapon of Soviet troops. It was easily maintained.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 31**

Some four or five hours later, Kinch, his uniform jacket draped over the back of his chair, and Newkirk, looked at each other with tired, satisfying looks on their faces. It had been an exhausting procedure, but the two men had finished translating the coded papers secured from Decker's vehicle.

"Blimey," Newkirk said trying to stifle a yawn. He felt more exhausted than usual seeing as he had only gotten out of the hospital earlier today. "With all this bloody info we can hang all of 'em."

"Yeah," Kinch agreed. "Hard to believe Decker would keep all this information on his fellow conspirators, the conspiracy, and everything that transpired after the crash as well in his possession. But, considering what he did for the Nazis as a spy in Allied headquarters, I guess it really isn't that surprising."

"I guess you're right, mate," Newkirk replied looking through the papers. "But what I don't understand is why."

Kinch shrugged his weary shoulders. "Only thing I can guess is that he kept it for a bargaining ploy of some kind, maybe hoping to avoid the death penalty."

Newkirk chuckled. "Yeah, well bloody good luck with that," he said. "If anything, he's just talked his way into the death penalty." He pointed to something on one of the pages. "I mean, look at this here. He has the entire conspiracy outline from the moment they formed it while in prison in London, who they recruited, and detailed descriptions of all three attempts they made on the Gov'nor along with how they planned the plane crash, and what was done." Kinch noticed the Englander grind his lower jaw when mentioning the portion about the plane crash.

Kinch sighed. "I know. According to these, now we know exactly _what _they did to the General's plane. Darwin, with his expertise with repairing planes, was brought in specifically to tamper with the CO2 canister hookup, so that they would gradually leak carbon dioxide into the forward cargo hold first where the General and his aide were seated, and then into the cockpit, but did it in a way that during the pre-flight check it wouldn't be detected. It seems he also tampered with the wiring in the cockpit control panel so that during the pre-flight check the fire-warning light would function, but automatically short out immediately afterward so that if there was a fire, nobody would know it until it was too late."

Newkirk shook his head. "And in those first two attempts, now we know for sure Schmidt was the one who shot out the Colonel's rear tire, and Decker was the bastard who sent that car ad to 'im, and that Williams was the one who forced the Gov'nor's car off the road and down the embankment four months later. And Decker was the bloody bastard making those threatening phone calls to the Colonel as well. Also, according to this, Schmidt tampered with the brakes of Sergeant Bremer's jeep. Looks like Bremer overheard Williams and Darwin talkin' about the Gov'nor's crash in a bar they were all in, and when Schmidt was coming in looking for the two bastards, he saw Darwin point out Bremer who was on the phone at the time, probably with Butler. I guess it was a sign that Bremer was gonna cause trouble, and Schmidt went back outside to wait for the Sergeant to come out. And seeing as Schmidt's not talking, we might never know how he managed to tamper with the poor bloke's brakes. Poor Bremer dying when his jeep collided with a barricade."

"Yeah, and the force of the impact caused the jeep to explode and kill Bremer who was said to be drunk when he left the bar but nobody could verify if he really was or not since the person he arrived with wasn't paying attention as to how much his friend was drinking," added Kinch.

The Englander paused a few seconds before looking sideways at his friend. "Kinch, can I ask you something?" he asked with a grim expression.

"You can ask me anything. What is it?"

Newkirk bit his lower lip. "Have you ever wondered if the Gov'nor was already dead by the time his plane went down? I guess what I'm asking is, whether you think he knew what was happening and was afraid knowing there was nothing he could do about it?"

Kinch sighed and chewed his lower lip. "For his sake, I hope he didn't. But it gives me a small amount of comfort believing that he was either unconscious or dead from a combination of the carbon dioxide and the loss of cabin pressure by the time the plane spiraled out-of-control. To think anything else would make it hurt more than it already does. But I guess that's one question we will never really know the answer to."

Newkirk inhaled and exhaled through his nose. "I know what you mean, mate."

Kinch, gathering the papers together, slowly got to his feet. "I think we should get these papers to General Forbes. He'll need them for his interrogation of Decker in the hopes he'll lead us to Kurtz."

Newkirk slowly got to his feet and swayed a bit, causing him to grab onto the table to steady himself. Alarmed, Kinch grabbed the Englander's arm.

"Peter, are you all right?" he asked, worried.

Newkirk, taking a few moments to gather himself, finally nodded. "I'm okay. Just got up a little too quick is all."

Kinch exhaled. "You look exhausted. I should've sent you back to the hotel with Carter and LeBeau after we arrested Decker. It was selfish of me to have you stay and help me decode these papers. Can you forgive me?"

Looking at his friend, Newkirk smiled. "Nothing to forgive. I told you earlier, I'd be willing to lose me injured arm as well as me life to help catch the bloody bastards what killed the Colonel. I owe him that. Besides, if it had been one of us killed instead, do you think the Colonel would let a little exhaustion stop 'im?"

Kinch studied the determination in the Englander's face and nodded that he understood. "Okay," he said. "Just let me know when you need a break. Agreed?"

Newkirk smiled. "Agreed. Now, let's see what General Forbes has to say when he sees this ruddy information, and hopefully he can get Decker to talk."

* * *

Daerik Kurtz was pacing about the living room floor of his hotel room wondering and waiting; wondering what was going on, and waiting for Decker to contact him again. Kurtz had seen the televised press conference and wasn't surprised when Decker phoned him minutes later, promising that he would silence the Major himself, therefore making whatever evidence the authorities had worthless, and that he would inform him when the task was completed. Kurtz smirked as he hung up the telephone. If Decker had known that he planned on turning on him in the end, he was positive Decker would turn on him first. He knew that much about the man and despite their working relationship, he didn't trust Decker nor any of the others. After all, Decker, Schmidt, Williams, and Darwin were the only ones who could connect him to everything as they had met in the prison camp in England; and Desmond had never met him. Out of all of them, he knew Schmidt would never talk, and Darwin was too frightened to say anything. Williams and Desmond he didn't know much about, but he didn't trust either of them. But Decker was another matter. The man looked after himself before anybody else. Also, the Desmond situation was Decker's mess to clean up.

Also, all of them had outlived their usefulness anyway. Now that Robert Hogan was dead, Kurtz didn't need them anymore. Like Decker, Kurtz had been monitoring things since the plane crash, and when the Air Force closed their official investigation, he felt all of them could now relax as well as reap the benefits offered by the United States as opposed to returning to a post-war Germany where there was still destruction, strife, food shortages, and hardships. He therefore gave his fellow conspirators with the exception of Williams and Desmond, the option of staying in the US or returning to Germany. But if they decided to stay, they were to have no more contact with each other, ever. He wasn't surprised when the others informed him they preferred to remain. After all, like himself, Kurtz figured allowing them to take advantage of what the US had to offer was the least America could do seeing as they turned Robert Hogan loose on Germany. And while Kurtz didn't consider it equal payback for all the destruction and death Hogan had caused, he believed America owed him and the others.

He recalled Decker suggesting to him during his phone call that he might want to reconsider and escape to Germany himself as he believed Desmond would sell them out to save his life, but then Kurtz smugly reminded Decker that since he involved the Major, that made it his problem and that he should have gotten rid of the man after Schmidt obtained his job through the Major, and that it was Decker's idea to keep him on in case. Therefore, the Major could describe _him, _Decker, to the authorities. But Decker assured Kurtz that would not happen and Desmond would soon be dead. But that had been hours ago. And with things unraveling as they were, Kurtz was now just a bit on the nervous side. Secretly, he wasn't really _that_ worried. If Decker failed, then Decker would probably end up under arrest; and if that be the case, Kurtz also knew that Decker wouldn't talk or finger him.

Kurtz recalled his first meeting with the Senior POW officer. It was when with his brother-in-law, General Albert Burkhalter, he arrived in Stalag 13. Burkhalter had convinced Klink to take him on as his adjutant even though Klink protested.

**_(Flashback):_**

_It was during roll call at few mornings ago that Kurtz, in his first official duty as adjutant, was inspecting the prisoners that he first met Robert Hogan, and immediately sized the man up as a formidable opponent not to be underestimated. But he believed being a German, he was smarter than the American officer, which, unknown to him, was a mistake which would cost him in the end._

_He now watched Hogan slap the upper bed frame twice and watched in amazement as the lower bunk rose up to meet the bottom of the upper bunk and a ladder drop down. The little Frenchman undid and removed the gag which had been tied around his mouth, but left the man's hands tied in front of him, and the thin American Sergeant pressed his weapon against his back._

"_Keep in touch, Kurtz," Hogan told him with obvious dislike. "I'm counting on punching you in the nose when the war is over, and hate to lose touch with you before then." The American officer then grabbed Kurtz by the arm and dragged him closer to the tunnel opening.(1)_

_Kurtz glared at the Colonel with intense hatred. "Hogan, you are an infection in Germany and must be removed. I am only sorry I cannot be the one to do it. But mark my words, Hogan. One day. One day, somebody in Germany will swoop down and cut your head off. I only hope I am alive to enjoy it. And believe me when I say, I will enjoy it immensely wherever I am."_

_Smirking, Hogan wrapped his arms around himself. "If and when that day comes, you will be tucked away in a nice prison camp in England."_

_Kurtz smirked. "Your arrogance will be your downfall. But should you escape the punishment you so richly deserve, and somehow survive the war, and I am alive, I will see that you pay for the death and destruction you have brought upon the Fatherland."_

_Hogan chuckled as he helped Kurtz step over the bed frame and onto the ladder. "I'll be trembling even in my dreams, Captain," he said sarcastically._

_Kurtz started down the ladder where he knew there were armed members of the underground waiting to escort him to the rendezvous with a British sub later for his journey to England. He stopped after a few steps and stared upward at Hogan. "One last thing, Hogan, and on this you have my solemn promise as a loyal German. After the war, I will seek you out and crush you as the vermin you are. And I promise you….you will never see it coming until it is too late." He saw the American officer smile devilishly._

"_Have a nice trip, Kurtz," he said sweetly._

**_(End of Flashback)_**

Kurtz smiled as he had had the last laugh as Hogan _hadn't_ seen it coming when he boarded that plane. It made Kurtz chuckle. In his opinion, Hogan had underestimated _him_; and in the end, that was what mattered.

"You should have believed me, Hogan," he said to the open air. "I told you I would erase you like the vermin you are and I did. And I'm sure those who still believed in Hitler's ways rejoiced when news of your death was learned." He clasped his hands behind his back. "And no matter what happens now, Hogan, sie verbrennen in Holle, wo abschaum, wie Sie gehoren." (2)

Kurtz smirked. He knew how much it would gall the American officer, were he alive, to know that he, Kurtz, was enjoying and benefiting from everything Hogan's country had to offer. No. Kurtz would not leave America unless it was absolutely necessary.

* * *

Kinch and Newkirk went over their translation of the coded documents with General Forbes who listened closely. Forbes believed that Decker's code would stymie both his aide and the Englander, and they would have trouble decoding the papers. He now had to shamefully admit to himself that he should never have doubted the men. They had surprised him with their resourcefulness and ability to break the code so quickly, and Forbes admitted, probably more quickly than if the decoding unit had tackled it.

"Excellent work, gentlemen," Forbes said, impressed as he looked over the translations.

"Thank you, sir," replied Kinch. "Do you think there's enough there to use to get Decker to talk?"

"I don't know, but we'll see," said the General. "As it is, we don't even know if he'll talk regardless. And as he's a German national, he probably be like Schmidt and demand we send him back to Germany."

Newkirk chuckled. "Wonder what he'll say when he finds out Germany doesn't want him back."

Forbes inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose. "I guess we'll find out," he told the others. "Kinch, you and Newkirk are welcome to watch and listen to the interrogation if you'd like."

Newkirk and Kinch exchanged looks. Then, they both looked at Forbes.

"We'd like nothing better, General," Newkirk assured him with a smirk.

* * *

Decker sat, handcuffed to the table in the interrogation room, the lights in the ceiling illuminating the room. He stared at the wall mirror and smirked having little doubt that there would be somebody on the opposite side who would be watching and listening. He then glanced around the rather bland-looking room.

Just then, the door opened, and a man in dress uniform followed by two armed security guards, entered. Decker's eyes fell on the nametag pinned just above the man's breast pocket: General M. Forbes. Decker smiled in amusement. Forbes, carrying a folder, placed the folder on the table across from Decker, then pulled out the empty chair across from the man and sat down. The two guards positioned themselves one on each side of the closed door. Forbes' eyes never left Decker's face, all the while Decker continued to wear an amused smirk on his face as he watched the General fold his hands on top of the folder in front of him.

"General Forbes," Decker said calmly. "At last we meet."

"Decker," was all Forbes said making sure his stoic expression was now in place. "I'd like to ask you some questions about the death of Robert Hogan."

Decker chuckled. "I am a German national and will not reply to your questions. I _demand_ that you return me to Germany at once!"

Now it was Forbes' turn to chuckle. "I hate to burst your bubble, but I earlier spoke with German Ambassador Ziegler, and he has assured me that if you or any of the others of German ancestry should set foot in Germany, you will be promptly arrested and turned back over to the US for prosecution. In other words, Germany doesn't want you back. Now, would you like to reconsider answering my questions?"

Forbes wasn't exactly certain, but he could swear he saw Decker pale and stiffen at his words. The man bowed his head.

* * *

The interrogation wasn't going well nor was as revealing as hoped as Decker wasn't talking much. It was as if he was selecting which questions asked by Forbes he would answer and which ones he wouldn't. But throughout it all, Decker never changed the smirk on his face.

Kinch and Newkirk were both standing side-by-side outside the interrogation room watching the interaction between Forbes and Decker while they listened to the voices filtering through the speaker on the wall beside the one-way mirror.

"Still the same smug, arrogant bastard he was when we brought 'im to Stalag 13, isn't he?" Newkirk commented to Kinch, his green eyes studying the man on the other side. "Nothing's changed even after all these years."

Kinch, not commenting, continued staring at the man inside. Inwardly, he wanted very badly to be inside the interrogation room right now with Decker, taking part in the interrogation, but he also knew it was a bad idea as he wasn't sure he would be able to control himself facing one of the two men who orchestrated the death of Hogan and others, but mainly the General. Then to find out he had plans for Generals Forbes and Butler to be executed as well? It was more than Kinch could tolerate and remain calm. It was better that he remained outside the interrogation room and let Forbes handle the questioning. He exhaled deeply and just remained silent keeping his thoughts to himself.

Newkirk ground his jaw and bowing his head, shook it before raising it again. "If I had five bloody minutes in there with that ruddy bastard, I'd knock that sickening smirk right off his face," he said. "He and that other twister, Kurtz, plotted the Gov'nor's death a year before they finally succeeded with the plane crash. And all he can do is sit there and smirk like it's some kind of bleedin' game."

Kinch looked sideways at his friend. "Maybe with people like Decker and Kurtz that's exactly what it is," he said. He saw Newkirk turn his head and look at him.

"What do you mean?" Newkirk asked quietly, not sure he understood.

Kinch shrugged his shoulders. "I honestly believe that people like Decker and Kurtz considered what they were doing to the General a game of how many times can we try and kill him before we succeed."

Newkirk nodded thinking he finally understood. "And I guess the grand prize was Colonel Hogan's death." He paused as he looked at Kinch again. "So to Decker and this Kurtz blighter, they won the game the minute the Gov'nor died."

"Exactly," Kinch added. The two men then turned back and looked into the interrogation room again. As they watched, Kinch heard Newkirk mumble something under his breath although he didn't know what, and decided he didn't want to know.

* * *

Decker glanced at the photos of his co-conspirators and showed no emotion or reaction. But Forbes, on the other hand, was slowly becoming exasperated.

"General, I have in my possession some documents outlining everything and details on everyone involved. But they are in a code nobody can translate but me. Now, I'd be willing to translate these documents for you if we can uh, come to an agreement of some sort?" He raised both eyebrows and wore his most innocent look.

"Oh, you mean these documents?" Forbes replied pulling several papers from the folder and laying them down in front of Decker whose eyes bulged and jaw dropped.

"This is impossible!" he nearly shouted. "That code was known only to me! You couldn't have broken it!" Decker couldn't believe his bargaining chip was now gone.

"My aide and his friend broke it and quickly I might add. Now, let me ask you something," Forbes began. "Exactly why did you and your friends kill General Hogan?"

Decker, his hard eyes focused on the General, ground his lower jaw then chuckled hearing that question. "I will answer, General, but first you must answer a question for me."

Forbes knew he shouldn't do it, but he decided to go along. "What is it?"

"Samuel Castleman, or Jack Williams as you called him. Is he dead or under arrest?" asked Decker.

"Why is that so important to you?"

Decker shrugged. "It isn't really. Just curious."

Forbes looked at him. "He's dead," he finally said.

Decker nodded. "I thought as much." He paused for a minute. "To answer your question about Hogan. He was killed because he was vermin. He spread death and destruction in Germany all the while hiding behind his country claiming he was only doing his duty." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Major Hochstetter was right, you know."

Forbes arched an eyebrow. "How so?"

Decker chuckled again. "Many times he said Hogan was the most dangerous man in Germany, and nobody would listen to him. And he was right. But we listened."

"We?" asked Forbes. "You mean you and your fellow conspirators?"

"No. I mean the Fatherland. We only made certain the death sentence was carried out. It took a year, but he paid." Decker then smirked in a way that made Forbes' blood run cold. "And we can now rejoice that Papa Bear's blood has been spilled at last." He paused. "Does that answer your question, General?"

Disgusted, Forbes glared at the man seated across from him. "You're not the least bit sorry that you killed a good man along with three innocent men on that plane, are you?"

"I would rejoice at seeing a hundred men dead as long as one of them was Hogan," Decker sneered. "But sorry? Not at all."

* * *

(1)The flashback was made up by me from the episode Everyone Has a Brother-In-Law, Season 2.

(2)"You are burning in hell where scum like you belong."


	33. Chapter 33

*****A/N: Chapter 19 was missing somehow and had to be re-posted. Chapters 19-32 have been re-posted again. There are some derogatory words and terms in this chapter.*****

**Chapter 32**

Forbes nearly slammed the door of the interrogation room as he exited it. Decker's last statement enraged and horrified him and his emotions were evident to Kinch and Newkirk.

"I'll make 'im talk, General," Newkirk said. "Just give me a couple of minutes alone with the blighter and look away. I promise you I'll sort 'im out for you." Newkirk punched a fist into his opposite hand to emphasize what he wanted to do to Decker.

"That won't be necessary," Forbes replied. "It's just the arrogance of the man is unbelievable. Was he like this back at Stalag 13?"

"He was more of the strong, silent type if you know what I mean, General," the Englander replied with a frown. "But it was apparent he disliked the Gov'nor seeing as he was sending him back to England as a prisoner."

Exhaling, Forbes crossed his arms and looked at his aide. "What do you want to do now?" Seeing Kinch's surprised look, the General continued. "Well, it's been your investigation from the very beginning."

Kinch chuckled. "It's been _our_ investigation, sir, but thank you. Well, we know Schmidt won't talk; Williams is dead; Decker isn't saying much, and Darwin apparently doesn't know much other than what he's already told us. So, our only hope seems to be the good Major Desmond again." Just saying the Major's name left a bad taste in Kinch's mouth.

Forbes arched an eyebrow. "Desmond? But we agreed the Major would have been kept out of things other than getting Schmidt a job on the inside so he could spy on Hogan for the others."

"And I still believe that," said Kinch. "But I believe Desmond can at least identify some of the others and tell us or confirm exactly what he did to aid them in the conspiracy against the General."

Forbes thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded. "It's worth a shot. Captain, I think you should handle Desmond's questioning this time."

Kinch raise both eyebrows in surprise. "Me, sir? If you pardon my saying so, sir, the Major despises me with a passion. Wouldn't it be more likely he'd shut down if I question him?"

"He might," Forbes replied. "But I have two reasons for wanting you to handle this. One, it's his dislike of you that just might make him open up to you."

"How so?" asked Kinch.

"He was counting on you being on that plane with Hogan when it went down. The fact that you're still alive might just make him angry enough to want to hurt you more by detailing what it was that he did to help these men. I believe he would enjoy seeing you react by telling you."

"Pardon me saying so, General," Newkirk interrupted. "But that sounds a mite cruel to me mate having to listen to this blighter tell what he did to help kill the Gov'nor."

"I realize that," Forbes replied, understanding. "But it might be our only chance to find out exactly what Desmond did and how much he was involved." He then looked at Kinch. "I won't make it an order, and you don't have to do it if you don't want to. It's your decision."

Kinch exhaled deeply. "You said there were two reasons, sir?"

"Yes. The second is that Major Desmond has been advised that should he fail to cooperate, lie, or give false information at anytime during an interrogation or to whoever is questioning him, we have the right to put the death penalty back on the table. We took it off and can put it back at any time. I believe the Major is too self-centered and would do anything to save his own neck, including talking to someone he hates."

Kinch looked at Newkirk. "What do you think, Peter?"

Newkirk had never seen his friend so undecided before. "As the General said, mate, it's your call. But if you can tolerate being in the same room as that bloody bastard and listenin' to him badmouth the Gov'nor while he tells what he did to help, then I say you should do it. Might be the only way to put the final nail in the coffin as they say."

Kinch then looked at the General. He knew Newkirk would never tell him what he wanted to hear, but would speak the truth, and he trusted the Englander's advice. He exhaled. "I'll do it, sir," he said.

Forbes, smiling, gripped his aide's shoulder giving it a squeeze. "Good. I'll have security bring Desmond into an interrogation room after Decker's returned to his holding cell."

* * *

Thirty minutes after he had been brought into an interrogation room and handcuffed to the table, Desmond glanced around the room, still waiting for General Forbes to appear and question him again. The Major had no idea what else he could tell the General as he had already told him everything he knew. Then he figured he might try and minimize his part in everything, but he'd have to do it in a way that wouldn't make it obvious that he was lying. He smiled faintly as he pondered over what he could say. But whatever he told the General, it would have to not only be believable, but something they couldn't prove and would only have his word on.

Outside, Kinch, Newkirk and Forbes continued watching Desmond through the mirror.

"Look at 'im," said Newkirk, disgusted, moving a chair closer to the observation window then sitting down in it. "Probably trying to figure out his next move. Bloody twister."

Forbes handed Kinch the folder with the photos. "Just remember, Newkirk and I along with several security guards will be right outside watching and listening, and Desmond's secured to the table. But we'll be ready at the first sign of trouble."

"Yes, sir," said Kinch who then looked at Newkirk and saw the Englander smile and wink at him. The Captain smiled back as he gripped the doorknob, and took a deep breath before opening the door, and entering the room.

To say Desmond was stunned to see Kinch walk in instead of Forbes was, at best, an understatement. As Kinch closed the door, he saw the Major glare at him.

"What are you doing in here, nigger?" he hissed. "I demand to see the General, not his boy."

Smirking, Kinch kept a tight reign on his emotions as he approached the opposite side of the table. "General Forbes is busy questioning one of your accomplices, Major. So he asked me to talk with you. Also, I am nobody's boy. Plus, you're not in a position to demand anything. Let's get that straight right now." Pulling out the chair, Kinch sat down across from the man he despised for many reasons.

Desmond jerked at the chain of his restraints but found they had no give whatsoever. He mumbled something under his breath that Kinch couldn't quite make out. He calmly clasped both hands on top of the folder in front of him. "Excuse me, but did you just say something?"

Desmond smirked. "You don't want to know what I said, boy."

"But I do, Major."

"I said why couldn't you have been on that plane with your nigger-loving boss? He should have been ashamed of himself having one of you work for him."

"Let's begin with that then, should we?" asked Kinch, keeping his face impassive. "Just why did you join this conspiracy against General Hogan when you learned about it?"

Desmond ground his lower jaw. "Drop dead, nigger. I'm not telling you anything."

"I see," Kinch said remaining calm. "Very well then. I suggest that you enjoy what little time you have left as the General told me to remind you that should you refuse to cooperate, lie, or give false information to anyone, the death penalty would be put back on the table. And right now, whether you live or die rests solely with me." Kinch slowly got to his feet and picked up the folder. "I will inform the General of your refusal to cooperate with me and we will make sure the death penalty option is back in place. Good day, Major." Kinch walked to the door and gripped the doorknob. As he opened the door…

"Wait," Desmond said having reached an unpleasant decision.

Kinch, standing in front of the open door looked back over his shoulder. "Yes, Major?"

"I don't want to die."

"That's strictly up to you." Kinch kept his eyes on Desmond who bowed his head and shook it. He knew if he waited long enough and played it just right, the Major would cave. "Your refusal to cooperate applies to whoever questions you regardless of their race. And I assure you, the General will look upon your refusal to speak with me as a refusal to cooperate with the Air Force conducting an investigation. So what is your decision?"

"Ask your questions," Desmond hissed. "But so we're clear…." he said as he looked up at the Captain who had since closed the door and was now standing before him. "….I don't like you or your kind."

"Understood. And to be perfectly clear, the feeling is mutual." Kinch sat back down. "Now, back to my original question. Why did you join this conspiracy against the General when you first heard of it?"

Desmond refused to look at Kinch when he spoke. "I hated your boss with a passion after what he did to me, costing me a timely promotion by filing that official reprimand with my superior. Thought he was so smug with his arrogant self; always getting everything he wanted."

"What do you mean?"

This time Desmond looked up and his lips curled into a sneer, and when he spoke, his voice dripped with venom. "He got everything handed to him just because he was shot down and became a POW. People treated him like a fucking golden boy or something. There was nothing special about Hogan from what I could see. He was nothing but a fucking con artist and an ass kisser. And he got away with it. Probably never had to really work for anything in his entire life. And to make matters worse, he brought one of your kind in to be his aide. That should have raised red flags right there. No _decent_ white man would do such a thing. The man obviously didn't give a damn about his reputation. I tried to do him a favor and warn him. Look what it got me."

Outside the room, Newkirk's face turned a deep shade of crimson and his green eyes blazed as he heard Desmond talk about Hogan in such derogatory terms. He also admired Kinch for his restraint. He looked down and over when he felt a hand on his arm and saw Forbes looking at him, concerned.

"I know how you feel," he said with sympathy. Newkirk could see the pain in the General's eyes and nodded. Both men then turned their attention back to the goings on inside the room.

Kinch stiffened at Desmond's description of Hogan, but continued to restrain himself; but inside, he was raging. "I believe that was concerning my promotion to Lieutenant."

"That's right. Your damn promotion to Lieutenant." Desmond shook his head and smirked. "I hated him and you for it. So when I was contacted about the General I saw a way to get back at both of you and took it."

Kinch, opening the folder, removed the six photos and spread them out in front of Desmond. "Do you see the photo here of the man who approached you about General Hogan?"

Desmond raised his manacled wrists as far as he could and managed to tap Decker's photo with a finger. "He's the one who approached me in the luncheonette," he said coldly. He then explained what it was Decker wanted him to do. "That's when he told me about wanting to play a prank on the General."

Kinch raised his eyebrows. "Prank?" he asked. He listened closely to the Major describe in detail the 'prank' Decker said he wanted to play on Hogan. Kinch inhaled and exhaled deeply. "And you didn't find that strange, Major?" he asked incredulously.

"Find what strange?" Desmond asked sweetly.

"That a man who you never met before, approaches you about wanting to play a prank as you call it, on an officer of the United States Air Force, and asks you to get somebody a job on the cleaning staff so he could spy on this officer for him?"

Desmond smirked. "I would have if it had been anybody other than Hogan. I figured it would be a good way to get back at that ass-kisser so I agreed to help." He then chuckled. "The five grand went a long way to convincing me too."

"Is that how much he paid you initially?" asked Kinch, his voice a bit tense now.

"Sure did."

"Major, did you at anytime, consider reporting this to your superior officer or to anybody?"

Desmond chuckled. "Why would I? I was getting paid extra for my services and besides, Hogan deserved whatever he got. I secretly suspected he must've pissed off this Decker for him to go to such lengths to find him."

"Why do you say that?" asked Kinch swallowing the growing lump in his throat.

Desmond tilted his head and studied the Captain's face. "I saw it in his eyes, boy. But you wouldn't understand that with your limited intelligence. See, I know he said he wanted to pull a prank on Hogan, but I believed otherwise. And playing a prank wasn't what that man had in mind. No sir. And I for one didn't care what his reasons were, I just wanted to see Hogan squirm." He then chuckled. "Wish I could've seen the expression on Hogan's face when he realized he was going to die. Bet it was priceless."

It took a few minutes for Kinch to regain his composure after Desmond's admission. And as much as he wanted his hands around the Major's throat so he could see the expression on the Major's face when he realized he was about to die, Kinch kept reminding himself Hogan never wanted any of his men to take the law into their own hands, and each of them had lived with that ingrained in them. Kinch took in and let out several deep breaths before continuing. "Do you see this Andrew Wyler's photo here?" he asked calmly.

Desmond chuckled as he picked out Schmidt's photo. "That's him. I got him a job as a janitor. But I seem to remember when he and I were arrested that he had another name."

"He does," Kinch remarked taking the photos of Decker and Schmidt and replacing them in the folder, but leaving the other four spread out on the table. "The man who recruited you was a German named Bruno Decker who was sent to a British prison camp for espionage; the second was of Wilhelm Schmidt, also German, who worked for German Intelligence during the war. He also served time in a British prison camp. That was where these two men met in fact…." Kinch pointed to the photos of Kurtz, Darwin, and Williams, all of whom Desmond said he didn't know or have any dealings with. Kinch put those photos back in the folder as well. "So let me get this straight. You took part in this conspiracy to get back at General Hogan because you were jealous of him and hated the two of us?"

"That's right. I saw it as a way to get rid of both of my problems at the same time. The man called Decker promised me you would die with Hogan as collateral damage. The money wasn't bad either. But things got screwed up at the end when you didn't go with Hogan on that plane." Desmond leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "Why weren't you on that plane, nigger! _Why!_"

"At what point did you realize Decker intended to kill the General instead of playing a prank on him as he had told you originally?" Kinch asked ignoring the question. It was getting harder and harder to refrain from punching the Major's lights out.

Desmond leaned back in his chair and sighed wearily. He really didn't want to explain anything more to this man, but if it meant saving his own life, he'd force himself to do it. Also, it gave him a rush to be able to detail what he had helped do to Hogan just to see the good Captain flinch. He shrugged. "I don't know. Guess it must have been when he paid me the first time. But as I said, I really didn't care. I wanted to teach that nigger-lover a lesson and I needed the money."

"Why don't you now tell me about how the plot to kill both Generals Forbes and Butler came about and who suggested it?" Kinch asked, grateful to change the subject from Hogan.

Desmond smirked. "Decker wanted me to arrange a get together in Butler's house between them and he would have his man Castleman, break in and kill them both. Then I was suppose to have this Andrew Wyler kill Castleman. I figured with Forbes out of the way, I'd have a clear path at getting rid of you. He gave me seventy-two hours to set it up and paid me ten thousand dollars to do it." Desmond then grinned. "Pity though. Does Butler know he was going to be executed?"

Kinch glared at the man. "General Butler's dead, Major. He was killed by this Castleman a few days ago and a good friend of mine who was there at the time was wounded."

It made Kinch ill to watch Desmond chuckle upon hearing of Butler's death. "You find that funny, Major?" he asked.

"In a way. This Decker was determined to get rid of Mr. Castleman more than getting rid of you for me as he promised. He swore to me he would get rid of you if I helped him with Hogan. But he lied. After Hogan was dead, he couldn't have cared less about helping get rid of you. But he was concerned about you however. He had that man, Schmidt, plant a bug in your office, you know."

Now it was Kinch's turn to smirk. "You mean that bug that was there when I called you to my office that day? I knew it was there the entire time."

Desmond's jaw dropped. "That's a lie! There's no way you could have known!"

"I had my office swept for listening devices as we didn't know who else might be involved besides you. I used it to lure you out into the open knowing that Decker would want to silence you before you could talk. And it worked because here you and Schmidt both are, in custody."

"You mean that story about meeting you at the luncheonette…."

Kinch smiled as he nodded. He saw Desmond's face turn a deep crimson and his eyes ablaze with rage.

"You fucking bastard!" Desmond shouted jumping up from his seat as much as his restraints would allow. "You tricked me!"

Kinch sighed. "_Sit down_, Major," he said coolly. He watched the Major slowly sink back down. "Now, why don't you tell me why you attacked Captain Winger? What did she have to do with any of this?"

Desmond smirked deviously. "That little bitch! I saw how she looked at you. I knew she would give it up for you if you asked. I was waiting to see the General so I could lure him to Butler's house when she got the call saying he wouldn't be back until later. Then I saw the look on her face when _you _called_. _I saw my opportunity right then to get rid of you. All I had to do was make it look like you attempted to rape her and panicked when she hit her head and ran. Almost worked too. But I forgot you and Forbes were together the entire time." The Major shook his head. "It galls me thinking how fast that little slut would spread her legs for you, but not for her own kind. What kind of decent woman does that?" He chuckled. "But she won't testify against me seeing as she's on life support and is probably dead by now or soon will be." The satisfied grin on his face made Kinch want to puke.

Kinch sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, something about that. Seems that wasn't true either."

"What are you saying?" Desmond asked with knitted eyebrows.

"Captain Winger is expected to make a full recovery, and believe me when I say she will testify as to your attack on her."

Enraged, Desmond leaped out of his chair and lunged at Kinch but was prevented from reaching him by the chains. "You fucking nigger! Think you're so damn clever with your smug, arrogant self. You and your kind always think you're smarter than everybody else!" He didn't even hear the door open and Newkirk and Forbes, followed by security, enter the room. Kinch held up a hand stopping them. But Desmond kept ranting.

"You and Hogan are exactly alike. He was a fucking bastard and so are you! He got exactly what he deserved! I only wish I could have watched the carbon dioxide suck the life out of him. I would have laughed my ass off watching him gasp for breath."

Kinch, who up to now had shown remarkable restraint, lunged forward then and grabbed Desmond by the front of his shirt and jerked him forward and close. The Major saw a look in the Captain's eyes that scared him. He swallowed nervously.

"Listen to me, you arrogant, self-conceited bastard! You helped kill one of the finest men I have ever known in my life! You aren't even _half _the man he was. If I had my way I'd take you someplace and give you a taste of what you gave him. But fortunately I am nothing like you. And as far as the General being handed things and being a golden boy, all I can say is that he worked hard for everything he received later. There are things you don't know about him. _Nothing _was _handed_ to him on a silver platter as you say. Any problems you had with him were caused by you, not him! But I'll tell you this much! When you messed with General Hogan, you messed with me and my British friend there. And we are going to be your worst nightmare from this moment on."

Desmond glanced at Newkirk for a second, then back at Kinch and smirked. "How about that? A nigger defending his master."

Kinch tightened his grip on Desmond's shirt.

"Captain!" Forbes shouted taking a step forward with Newkirk close behind.

Kinch swallowed hard and looked over to see the worried eyes of both his commanding officer and Newkirk. Turning back to Desmond, he suddenly thrust the Major away from him as if his hands had been burned. Then, gathering the folder, Kinch stormed out of the room followed by Forbes and Newkirk. The General looked back at the guards. "Take the Major back to his holding cell," he ordered then followed behind the others. By the time he got outside, he found Kinch with his shoulder slumped against the wall with Newkirk resting a hand on the other shoulder talking to the man. He approached the duo quietly.

"I'm sorry, sir," Kinch said to Forbes having heard the footsteps approach, but not turning to face his commanding officer. "I guess I blew it in there." He bowed his head. "I just couldn't stand listening to him talk about the General like he was anymore."

"Forget it," Forbes said as in the background, they heard Desmond being led out of the interrogation room. "I'm just glad you didn't hit him, or you'd be sitting in a cell about now."

"The General's right there, mate," added Newkirk gently. "You could've been in serious trouble yourself if you had sorted that bastard out no matter how much he deserved it. Personally, I think he was tryin' to make you belt 'im."

"I know," Kinch weakly replied. "You don't know how close I came to….if the General hadn't said anything I just might of….the things he said about…." Kinch rubbed his forehead.

"I know, mate, I know. He was purposely being cruel hoping to get a rise out of you. But as far as hitting him, I think you would have stopped yourself even if the General didn't say anything."

"Newkirk's right," Forbes concurred. "You wouldn't have stooped to his level. You wouldn't have hit him."

Kinch whirled around, his eyes hard. "You don't know that! You couldn't possibly know that!"

If Forbes was fazed by his aide's outburst he didn't show it. "Yes, I do. I know you. And I know enough to know you've lived your life by Hogan's standards. I see a lot of Rob in you. And I know for a fact Rob wouldn't have hit Desmond no matter how much he deserved it and neither would you. So to answer your question, _that's _how I know you wouldn't have."

"He's right, y'know," Newkirk added softly. "If there was anybody so like the Gov'nor it was you. Even back at Stalag 13, you and he thought so much alike it was uncanny at times. In fact, you two coulda been twins."

It was then that Kinch turned his head toward Newkirk and gave him a 'you have to be kidding' look only to see the Englander smirking at him with a twinkle in his green eyes.

"Thanks, Peter. General," Kinch replied straightening himself and taking a deep breath before turning around and facing both men. Newkirk patted him on his back and smiled.

"You're welcome," Forbes added. "Now, let's see about finding this Kurtz."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 33**

By the time the trio reached Forbes' office, Kinch had calmed down considerably since his mini-meltdown outside the interrogation room. A new look of determination had appeared on his face that told both Newkirk and Forbes that Kinch hopefully was once again on top of his game and ready to go after who they believed to be the ringleader of the conspiracy. But truth be told, nothing could have been further from the truth. Outwardly he looked to be in control, but inwardly, Kinch was a jumbled mass of rampaging emotions. _I'm sorry, General, _he thought to himself. _I should never have allowed Desmond to get under my skin like that. But listening to him talk about you like he did was too much for me to handle. _

Forbes watched his aide and Newkirk both collapse in chairs in front of his desk. "Whiskey?" he asked as he stood in front of his liquor cabinet glancing at the two men.

Newkirk glanced sideways at his friend before turning back to the General with a faint grin. "Don't mind if I do, sir. I could use a wee bit of a nip right about now. I think me mate could use a stiff one as well."

Forbes, picking up a bottle, poured three snifters of the expensive whiskey, turned, and handed both glasses to Newkirk who in turn handed one to the Captain; the General picked up the remaining glass before sitting down behind his desk. He raised his glass in a silent salute as did Newkirk, and then both men took a sip. The Englander raised both eyebrows.

"Been a long time since I had the good stuff, General," said Newkirk looking amused. "Only time we got the good stuff was when we raided Klink's liquor cabinet. And even then he seldom had any _really_ good stuff but a cheap imitation. But I suppose in a war, beggars can't be choosers as they say. Right Kinch?" he asked with a look at his friend who sat quietly holding his glass in both hands and just staring into the dark liquid. "Kinch?"

The Captain suddenly looked up at the Englander as if seeing him for the first time. "What? Did you say something, Peter?" He then noticed both Forbes and Newkirk staring at him with worried expressions. "What? Did I miss something?"

"Mate, are you still lettin' what happened with Desmond trouble you?" asked Newkirk. "Because if you are you shouldn't."

"Let's just drop it," Kinch replied then took a sip of the whiskey letting it burn his throat as it went down. "I lost it in there and I shouldn't have. You can bet a month's pay the General wouldn't have let someone like Desmond get under his skin. The General was _always_ in control of his emotions at all times, even when he was angry as he was when he discovered Williams was willing to sell us out that time."

Newkirk hung his head. "That's where you're wrong, mate," he said softly. "There was a time when the Gov'nor lost it completely."

Kinch looked at his friend with knitted eyebrows. "I don't recall any such thing happening," he said, puzzled. "When was this?"

Newkirk lifted his head. "It happened shortly after the Colonel arrived in camp, but before you did. But I'd best start at the beginning…."

_**(Beginning of Flashback):**_

_Hogan hadn't been incarcerated in Stalag 13 but a few short days, and he was still nervous and scared; nervous about his surroundings, his captors, everything, and scared for his fellow prisoners and of being alone at the same time. He also learned he was the only officer in an enlisted man's camp, and that knowledge terrified him as well. Why was he even in this camp when he was an officer? Were the Krauts trying to break him? Humiliate him? Or were they trying a new method with which to mess with his mind?_

_He paced nervously in his private quarters, back and forth, back and forth. There had to be a way out of this pigsty. He couldn't stay here. Hell, he was already going crazy here; a few more days here and he just might go 'wire happy.' Also, he seemed to be a novelty of some kind here. From the minute he was brought by the Kommandant with the monocle, and the obese Sergeant-of-the-Guard to barracks number two, and introduced to the other prisoners there as their new Senior POW officer, the prisoners were gathering around him and all talking at once asking him questions. He just didn't want to answer any questions right now; in fact, he didn't want to deal with anything right now. All he was right now was afraid of being in the hands of the enemy, and wondering what would become of him while in their hands. _

_First it was the Kommandant; a balding slightly older man with a monocle. "Colonel Hogan, you are assigned to the toughest POW camp…."_

_Then, it was the rotund Sergeant-of-the-Guard. "Colonel Hogan has been assigned to barracks two by the Kommandant…."_

_Then it was the prisoners. "Colonel Hogan, are you really the new Senior officer here?"_

"_Colonel Hogan, we need…."_

"_Colonel Hogan, can you help us with something?"_

"_Colonel Hogan….Colonel Hogan….Colonel Hogan….." It didn't end. He didn't reply to anybody, but just turned and nearly bolted into the smaller room which he learned was the officer's quarters, and shut the door. He wanted to be alone; didn't want to answer questions; he just needed to be alone. He began to pace nervously._

_He whimpered covering his head with his arms as he continued pacing. He was beginning to hate the sound of his own name. Why couldn't everybody just leave him the fuck alone? Suddenly, he heard a commotion outside his door and stopped his pacing long enough to open the door to see two of the prisoners wrestling around on the floor in what appeared to be a serious brawl with other prisoners circling them seemingly egging them on, while two other men, one a little French Corporal he had met called LeBeau, and a man in a blue RAF uniform who was called Newkirk, trying to pull them apart, both without success. Shaking his head, he stepped into the room. He didn't need this right now._

"_Stop it," he said. Hogan noticed the men were making so much noise nobody could hear him. His headache, which before had been a dull ache, was now growing in intensity. He couldn't take the noise right now, and began shoving his way through the throng. "I __**said **stop it!" Hogan shouted roughly pushing prisoners out of the way and roughly grabbing the biggest of the two combatants and jerking him to his feet, yanked him close so they were nose-to-nose, and drew back his fist. "__**God dammit! I said stop it!" **__he shouted angrily, the rage on his face evident to all._

_It was during the dead silence that immediately followed that he suddenly became aware all eyes were upon him, and at first thought it was from the fact that he was not only an officer, but __**their**__ commanding officer; but then quickly found it wasn't. Hogan quickly looked into the faces of the men gathered around them, and noticed the looks of fear on each man's face as they looked at him. Then, he slowly turned his head and looked into the face of the man whose shirt he held tightly in his hand before looking at his drawn back fist. The look of sheer terror on the man's face gripped Hogan's heart and he paused long enough to swallow the lump in his throat, lower his fist, and then release the man's shirt and step back, horrified at what he was about to do. His face softened as he was hit with a sudden realization._

_These men were afraid; afraid of __**him**__. He was their commanding officer and these men were showing him fear. He had been an officer his entire career and had never had men under his command show him fear before and it horrified him; also, he had never raised his hand to one of his men before. What was happening to him? He immediately turned and bolted back inside his small room to isolate himself from the others and the others from him, slamming the door behind him._

_Fear. He had never had men fear him before. Fear was how German officers commanded their men. All Hogan wanted was respect from those under him. Terror was never how he wanted to command or earn the respect of others. Slumping against the bed post, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What did I just do?" he asked the open air around him. "How can I approach those men out there again after the looks they gave me? How?" Right now his head hurt so badly he thought it would explode. He buried his face in his hands and exhaled deeply. Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. "Go away!" he muttered just loud enough to be heard. "Please go away!" He then heard the sound of a door opening and looked around expecting to see angry men glaring at him with venom in their eyes, but instead, saw men gathering in the doorway with Newkirk and LeBeau in front, looks of concern on their faces as they now stared at the apparently tortured man before them. Hogan sighed and turned to face the group, ready to incur their wrath._

"_I just want to say I'm….sorry for losing my temper a few minutes ago. I didn't mean to. I just….I just haven't yet adjusted to….but that's no excuse for my behavior. And though it will take me awhile to adjust to being here, as your commanding officer, I promise you here and now, that I will never lose my temper with you men, nor put my hands on any of you in anger again. You have my word." He noticed nobody had said a word. Then, LeBeau and Newkirk both approached him._

"_It's all right, Gov'nor," Newkirk said. "We apologize for the scene outside. Things sorta got out-of-hand during a disagreement, and you being new here and all, I suppose us havin' a row here so soon after your arrival sorta caught you by surprise is all. We're sorry, sir."_

"_Oui, Colonel," LeBeau added with a small smile. Do not blame yourself for your reaction. You are new here, and we momentarily forgot that. Take all the time you need to adjust to life here. We will handle things ourselves until you are ready." His smile grew wider. "And we will help you adjust as much as we can if you'll let us."_

_Looking around, Hogan noticed that the fear he had earlier seen had now been replaced by compassion, and it was directed at him. Yet he didn't feel he warranted any compassion for what he had done, or almost did. "I don't deserve your compassion or your sympathy," he announced sadly._

"_Don't sell yourself short, mon Colonel. You will see. Just take things slowly and lean on us. When you are ready, you will take command of the prisoners, even if it is a bit at a time."_

"_Besides, Gov'nor," Newkirk began with a smirk. "Even officers are permitted to blow off steam now and then." He saw Hogan offer him a slight smile of gratitude and smirked himself. "Besides, it allows them to exercise their insignias it does," he added. He grinned in amusement when he saw the American officer give him a dirty look and the Englander's green eyes twinkled to show he was kidding. He then saw the corners of Hogan's mouth turn upwards as a grin appeared._

"_And I meant what I said before," Hogan said. "I will never lose my temper with you men again."_

_**(End of Flashback)**_

"And from that moment on the Colonel never lost his temper with us again," Newkirk added with a grin. "The fact that he saw fit to apologize to us of lower ranks went a long way to showin' us he was different from any officer that we'd ever known, that I meself had ever known." He held up a hand seeing Kinch about to ask a question. "And we never discussed it again after that. What I'm trying to get you to see, mate, is that the Gov'nor was human just like the rest of us, and could lose his temper just like the rest of us. But he learned how to control his temper in situations instead of his temper controlling him, and became the Gov'nor we all knew and respected who could accomplish anything."

Kinch sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Wow," he said. "I never knew the General had exploded like that and nearly hit one of the men."

Newkirk shrugged. "Yeah, well, as I said, he wasn't proud of that incident and never wanted it mentioned, so we didn't. I just told you about it now so you will see that what happened to you happened to the Gov'nor as well. Thing is you don't let what happened consume you but that you learn from it. And I have faith in you, mate, that you have already learned from it."

Kinch smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Peter," he said gently. He sighed. "Now, I think it's time that we come up with a way to catch Kurtz."

"You have any ideas as to how?" Forbes asked calmly. Like Kinch, he had been surprised to hear Newkirk's story about an incident from Hogan's early days in Stalag 13. All the time he had know the man, Hogan had been nothing but tolerant and patient, even with those he had issues with. He had never even heard him raise his voice with anyone. So hearing that Hogan nearly hit one of the men under his command came as a bit of a stunner.

"I have an idea, General," Newkirk said taking another sip of the whiskey. "But we're gonna have to move more quickly than we did for Decker."

"You think he'll run?" asked a worried Forbes.

"There's no doubt about that, sir," Kinch explained. "It's just a matter of when."

Forbes then asked the question he was hesitant to ask. "Is there a possibility he's already gone from our reach?"

"We don't think so, General," Newkirk replied. "From what we know of Kurtz from Stalag 13 days, he'd hang around and see what happens first. Then again, he might have changed his ways since then. He was smart. He'd have to be to have made bloody Captain. But the Gov'nor was smarter than him; even Decker was smarter than he was. Then again, there's only one sure way to find out." He exchanged looks with Kinch who nodded that he knew what the Englander was about to say and agreed. Newkirk then looked at Forbes who appeared puzzled. "We may have to force his hand by making him believe we're closing in on him."

Forbes looked at Kinch. "You look like you have an idea how to do that."

Kinch nodded. "I do. But it requires you holding another press conference slightly different from the one held when we were trying to lure Decker out into the open. We hold this press conference with the knowledge that Kurtz won't believe us when you say that Decker's cooperating, but at the same time, hoping that he will believe you when you announce we expect to have him in custody within twenty-four hours."

* * *

Kurtz got up from the sofa where he was sitting and ran a hand over his graying hair. In his opinion, too many hours had passed since he last spoke with Decker,and he now had no alternative but to believe that the man had been caught. But to Kurtz, the more important question was exactly how long could he afford to wait before deciding what his next step would be? How long could he afford to wait? He also suspected Hogan's men and the Air Force would set something up to try and lure him out into the open and catch him, but he wouldn't let that happen. Hogan's men would never catch him. He smirked. Whatever his decision was, Kurtz knew he would have to reach it soon.

The one advantage he had was that not even Decker knew where he was staying. Nobody did. He had made certain not to disclose his location to anyone. And Decker only had his telephone number so he could call directly without going through the answering service of the hotel at which he was a guest. Walking to the liquor cabinet, Kurtz poured himself a glass of Scotch before returning to the sofa and sitting down. He took a sip of the liquor and smiled at the taste of the alcohol as it slid down his throat. He had to admit that this hotel did, indeed, have excellent liquor. Setting the glass on the end table, he reached into his pocket and going through his wallet, removed his charge card which was one of the benefits of America he found he enjoyed as it beat carrying large sums of cash on him at all times, then grabbed the phone receiver and dialed the number for the local airport to book the soonest one-way flight he could out of the United States to Germany.(1)

* * *

After Kinch had explained his plan to Forbes and Newkirk, he waited for the two men to respond either with questions or comments.

Forbes exhaled. "That could be a bit risky," he said. "There are several methods with which he could leave the United States and return to Germany, providing that's where he's going."

"The General's right there, mate," Newkirk added. "He could head for Argentina, Spain, Italy, any number of countries in Europe. I mean ole Hochstetter and Burkhalter headed for Argentina. Doesn't have to be Germany."

"You're both right, of course," Kinch explained. "But my gut says he's returning to Germany and by plane. And I have to trust my gut."

Newkirk smiled. "The Colonel trusted your gut many times, and so do I."

"Count me in also," Forbes replied. "And we'd better plan everything carefully because if we miss, we may not get another crack at catching Kurtz."

* * *

Kurtz smiled to himself as he hung up the telephone. He had been successful in booking a flight to Germany by way of Argentina leaving tomorrow at eleven a.m. in the morning. He had wanted a direct flight to Germany, demanded one in fact, but was told there were currently none available, and he'd have to wait several days for one unless there was a cancellation, so if he could leave his phone number...

That was an option he refused to consider. Only one man had his phone number and nobody else would. He couldn't chance it. So, he reluctantly accepted and booked the one-way flight to Argentina where once there, he would then book a flight from Argentina to Germany. After confirming the arrival time in Argentina with the airlines, Kurtz phoned the airlines in Argentina he knew and booked a flight from there to Germany, and that he would pick up the ticket in person at the ticket counter before he boarded his flight. Now, with a satisfied smirk on his face, he picked up his snifter and took another sip before leaning his head against the back of the sofa to relax. By this time tomorrow morning, he would be on his way out of the United States and out of the reach of Hogan's men for all time. And the best part of his escape is that he had used an alias that nobody knew but him; Dane Kiersted. It was an alias he devised shortly before he arrived in the United States at end of 1952 to begin to carry out his plot against Hogan in 1953. That thought brought a chuckle to his lips because even if they had discovered what airlines he was using, they would look for him under Daerik or Dietrich Kurtz and would not find him listed. He raised his glass in a mock salute.

"I had the last laugh, Hogan," he said aloud. "I told you that you would never see it coming and you didn't. Now you are dead and I am not. And your stupid team will never find me." He chuckled again. "You should have listened to me." He then finished his Scotch.

* * *

Forbes put the receiver back on its hook after he finished his phone call. "The media will be here in an hour for the press conference," he announced to the duo tiredly. "I hope this works."

"I have to believe it will," Kinch replied. "I'm hoping we can plant just enough doubt in Kurtz's mind that we know all about him through other channels and that we have a description of him and expect to make an arrest within twenty-four hours. It should be just enough to cause him to make plans to leave as soon as possible."

"But we'd still have to narrow down the airport he might be using," said Newkirk. "There are several in this area. And we can't be sure under what name he'll be. Could be either Daerik or Dietrich Kurtz. Or even worse, he might have an alias we don't know about."

"I just hope he watches this news conference," Forbes added. He noticed neither Kinch or Newkirk said anything in response and figured they were both thinking the same thing.

"General, I'd like to use your phone for a few minutes," Kinch said.

"Sure. Help yourself," Forbes answered. "What are you thinking?"

"Something Newkirk just said. Maybe we can get a jump on Kurtz," Kinch said as he grabbed the receiver. "I'm gonna have the manifests of every airline checked to see if a flight for Germany, whether directly or to someplace else with a connecting flight to Germany, has been booked using either Daerik or Dietrich Kurtz. If neither name is used, then I'll check for anybody using the initials D. K. Hopefully, if he didn't use either name and came up with a new alias, he kept the same initials." Kinch looked at Newkirk who suddenly was rubbing his forehead and looked about ready to drop. "Peter, why don't you lay down and get some rest before you fall down. You look completely drained. Besides, there's nothing you can do until we know with which airport Kurtz has booked his flight and what time."

"Think I'll take you up on your offer, mate," the Englander replied not stifling a yawn. "General, mind if I crash on your couch and catch a few winks?"

Forbes smiled affectionately. "Sleep as long as you want. I was going to suggest you rest even if Kinch didn't. You just got out of the hospital and have been pushing yourself since you were discharged. Either Kinch or I will wake you if and when we need you." He slowly got up. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a press conference to prepare for."

"You know what you have to say, General?" asked Kinch looking through Forbes Rolodex until he found the phone number he was looking for.

"I think so," the General replied. "Wish me luck, gentlemen." He left the office without waiting for a reply from Kinch, and only barely heard a grunt from Newkirk who was now stretched out on the couch in the General's office with his eyes closed. Kinch gazed at his sleeping friend as the phone on the other end rang repeatedly. He hoped Newkirk could get as much sleep as he could because he had a feeling things were going to become hectic later and possibly dangerous, and the Englander, as well as he, Carter, and LeBeau, were going to need their wits about them.

* * *

(1)Diners Club is a charge card created in 1950. It was the first general purpose charge card and required the bill to be paid in full with each statement. The Diners Club company was created by Frank X. McNamara, Ralph Schneider, and Matty Simmons. When first emerged, it became the first independent credit card company that established an idea of a self-sufficient company producing credit cards for travel and entertainment. The first credit card charge was made on 2/8/50 at Major's Cabin Grill, a restaurant adjacent to their offices in the Empire State Building.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 34**

Kurtz was relaxing on his couch watching the evening news hoping to hear some information pertaining to either Decker or the investigation. He had spent the good portion of the day packing his few belongings and documents, so he would be ready to leave immediately after breakfast in the morning; and then checked a second time making certain he had not missed anything. Then, he had ordered dinner from room service and decided to catch the evening news to see if there was anything of interest. He had to admit he would miss the room service at American hotels the most. The food was as excellent as was the wine he had ordered with dinner. It was then he noticed a news bulletin coming on the television and leaned forward with his glass of wine to pay close attention to what was being said.

It was a news conference direct from the Pentagon. He watched a man in uniform identified as General Forbes, walk up to the podium outside the building, and look out at the sea of reporters who had gathered to hear his announcement. Then with a deep sigh, Forbes began to speak.

"_This press conference is to announce that earlier today, we caught and arrested one Bruno Decker who is one of the masterminds involved in the planning of the death of General Robert Hogan and others on-board the General's transport two years ago. Mr. Decker is cooperating with us, and confirming the names of others involved. At least one more arrest is expected within the next twenty-four hours of one Daerik Kurtz, also-known-as Dietrich Kurtz, who we believe is the other mastermind behind the conspiracy against the late General. I will not be taking any questions. That is all."_

Kurtz nearly choked on his wine when he heard the last part of the statement. Twenty-four hours? Setting down the wine glass on his tray, he got to his feet and hastily turning off the television, then sat back down. He ran both hands down his face tiredly. Kurtz knew there was no truth to Decker cooperating with the authorities because the man would never have survived all those years as a deep agent planted in England if he was the type who 'cooperated.' He suspected that part was added just to trick him into panicking and revealing himself. But Kurtz exhaled deeply remaining calm, knowing he would stick to his plan to leave tomorrow.

* * *

With a smile on his face, Kinch was hanging up the phone by the time Forbes was walking back into the office. "Somebody looks happy," the General replied seeing his aide's face. "I trust you have some good news about Kurtz."

"I do," Kinch replied eagerly. He first glanced over at Newkirk debating whether or not to awaken the sleeping Englander, and decided to let him sleep instead. He then faced Forbes. "There is no record on any manifest of a Daerik or Dietrich Kurtz with any airline in Washington flying directly to Germany, or by way of any European country. I then checked on any passengers with the initials of D.K., and found that there are three men listed on a flight leaving tomorrow morning from Washington National to Argentina. A Daniel Kruger, a Devin Kaiser, and a Dane Kiersted. The flight is leaving Washington National at eleven a.m. in the morning, and from Argentina, one can book a flight to anywhere in Germany. We've got 'im, sir."

Forbes smiled broadly. "Excellent work, Captain. I'll make sure we have at least three security teams ready and on stand-by for tomorrow. Kurtz may not go quietly, and I don't want to take any chances in a crowded airport. I want you and Newkirk to go home and get some rest. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow and I need all of you at your best if you're going to help take down Kurtz."

"Did somebody say we're takin' down ole bloody Kurtz tomorrow?" asked a sleepy voice. Both Forbes and Kinch looked over and saw Newkirk looking at them through partially open eyes.

"I thought you were sleeping?" asked Kinch. "I'm sorry if we woke you up when we were talking."

Newkirk, yawning, slowly sat up on the couch and stretched his arms. "You didn't. Who could ruddy sleep with the noise you both were makin' anyway? You made more bleedin' noise than Carter did with his ruddy explosives."

"Funny," Forbes replied with a grin. "Now both of you, get out of here and go home. I have arrangements to make for tomorrow."

* * *

Newkirk and Carter looked around at all the people rushing back and forth in the airport, either heading toward planes or away from them. They were hoping with the throngs of people everywhere that they'd be able to spot Kurtz. And despite knowing what he looked like, if he was wearing some kind of disguise, Kurtz could walk right past them and they might not recognize him. The Englander looked at the younger man standing beside him, and saw him straining his neck to look around.

Newkirk looked at his watch; it was nearing ten a.m. "Do you see 'im, Andrew?" he asked, his hand gripping the weapon in his coat pocket.

"Nope," Carter replied. "Do you?" he asked patting his coat pocket and feeling the gun inside.

Newkirk shook his head as he looked around. "Not one bleedin' sign of 'im. Too many bloody people walkin' around. I just hope we didn't miss the bloody bastard is all."

"Me neither," Carter agreed. "If we do, I sure hope Kinch, the General, or LeBeau spot 'im."

Meanwhile, Kinch and General Forbes were positioned in another part of the airport looking around at the people heading towards planes and away from them both with and without their bags. Kinch strained his eyes hoping to catch a glimpse of their man.

"It's going on ten forty-five, General," he said. "Do you think it's possible he spotted us despite the precautions we've taken?"

Forbes exhaled as his eyes searched the area. "I have to believe we'll find him," he said. "We haven't come this far just to have him slip through our fingers now."

Kinch rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Maybe I became too cocky," he said.

"Nonsense," Forbes replied with his forced smile disappearing. He forced his emotions back under control. "We will find him."

Positioned near the ticket counter, LeBeau inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose when he suddenly spotted their man approaching the counter carrying a single bag. Reaching into his coat pocket, the little Frenchman grabbed the butt end of his weapon tightly. Looking around, he spotted Newkirk and frantically waved at him until the Englander spotted him. It was then that LeBeau gestured towards the ticket counter with a toss of his head. LeBeau saw Newkirk nod in response.

Newkirk, after acknowledging LeBeau, quickly hit Carter's arm and gestured with his chin at Kurtz who, still at the ticket counter, had his back to the Frenchman and as yet, hadn't spotted them. Newkirk gestured at LeBeau to approach carefully then looked at Carter and motioned for him to approach Kurtz from the left while he himself approached from the right. Carter hurried away. Newkirk looked around to see if he could spot Kinch and Forbes and found that he couldn't, but knowing that there were three teams of security throughout the airport, made a quick decision. He slowly approached directly hoping that Kurtz would not see him nor the others until it was too late thus allowing them the element of surprise.

However, Kurtz could feel someone watching him, and discreetly tucked his hand inside his inner jacket pocket where he had kept his pistol. He had deliberately waited until the last minute to pick up the ticket for his flight so that he wouldn't have to sit around and wait. But as he calmly turned away from the counter, he spotted the little Frenchman approaching from his right, and instantly recognized him as one of Hogan's men. Even after all these years, the man had not changed that much in appearance. He also knew the man would not be here alone. If he was here, it was a sure bet the others were here as well, and probably with security. His hand tightened on his weapon. He then heard his flight being announced. For a moment his eyes flickered upward at the sound of the voice coming over the P.A. system, only to return to the little Frenchman again who now was only a few feet away.

"I am boarding that plane, Frenchman," Kurtz announced firmly as the two men stared intently at each other.

"I can't let you do that," was LeBeau's answer.

"You will not stop me," Kurtz replied knowing the Frenchman didn't want to get into a shootout in an airport full of people, while he, himself, didn't care. He would gladly die for his beloved Germany.

"But we will, mate," another voice said. Turning, Kurtz spotted the Englander who casually slid his hand out of his pocket just enough to reveal his weapon, but not enough to draw unwanted attention. "Hello, Kurtz. Long time no see."

Kurtz smirked. "You won't shoot me, Englander," he snickered. "You want me alive to stand trial for ridding Germany of its greatest menace. But I will never stand trial in America. Never. You must return me to Germany where I will be considered a hero by many."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen, Kurtz," someone else said. The German turned to see a black man wearing a military uniform standing beside a General with a team of armed security guards standing close by. "Your Ambassador has agreed to return any German national involved in your little conspiracy right back to the US for punishment if any of you so much as set foot on German soil."

"You're a liar! Germany would never turn her back on the man who orchestrated the demise of Papa Bear!"

Forbes smirked. "We will let you speak with Ambassador Ziegler himself if you'd like. Also, we have over three dozen members of security who right now have you in their sights and are ready to move in on command or should you try anything."

The German for some reason believed the American General about the German Ambassador. Despite being in the United States, he had kept tabs on the goings on in his country, and had heard rumors that the German Ambassador refused re-entry into his country of any German nationals guilty of crimes against America.

Newkirk was the first one to notice the German's hand twitch. "I wouldn't do that, mate," he said tensely. Just then, Carter joined the group with another security team in toe.

Kurtz looked around, acknowledging his path to the gate where his flight was boarding was blocked. Then, with a sigh, he dropped the case he was carrying, removed his hand from inside his coat, and placed both hands on top of his head. He was immediately surrounded by security guards one of whom handcuffed him and searched his pockets finding only one weapon which was handed over to Kinch who arched his eyebrows when he looked closely at it. The weapon was unloaded.

"What did he expect to do with an unloaded weapon, for Pete's sake?" asked Carter, stumped.

"He probably hoped to trick us into shooting and killing him before we realized it," Forbes replied. He sighed. "But deep down, Carter, I suspect our friend Kurtz here is a coward who would rather die than stand up and face what he did." The General was then handed a folded sheet of paper one of the guards retrieved from Kurtz's pocket. Unfolding it, Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk all saw Forbes pale as he read the contents.

"What is it, sir?" asked Kinch. "What's that paper say?" Forbes handed it to Kinch who took it from the General's trembling fingers and let his eyes scan it. He swallowed hard.

"What is it, mon ami?" asked a worried LeBeau, seeing his friend's face.

"It's our list," Kurtz announced with a smile. "A list of our enemies who had to be eliminated because of the danger they presented to the Fatherland. We were able to carry out the executions of only the first two. Major Desmond was suppose to arrange the deaths of you, General Forbes, and of General Butler. But apparently he failed to do so."

"What's he talkin' about, Kinch?" asked a puzzled Newkirk. "Who's names are on that bleedin' list?"

Kinch sighed. "General Hogan, Morrison, General Butler, General Forbes and General Barton." He looked up, not willing to tell Kurtz that Butler was dead just now, and that Barton was retired.

"Blimey," was all Newkirk could utter.

"I don't get it," said Carter with knitted eyebrows looking at Kurtz. " Germany lost the war. Why couldn't you just get on with your life? Why'd you have to kill Colonel Hogan after all these years?"

Kurtz stared at the young man with a hard expression. Apparently this young American didn't understand the German way. "What if the US had lost?" he asked. "Would you have ever stopped fighting?" He noticed the young man had no retort and smirked. "Besides, we were only executing war criminals like you did at Nuremberg."(1)

"Batard!" LeBeau hissed angrily.

"Why you bloody…." Newkirk sneered taking a step forward, green eyes flashing dangerously.

"Colonel Hogan wasn't a war criminal," Carter said, lower lip trembling. "He wasn't. He was a good and decent man. You have no right calling the Colonel that." The younger man looked over when he felt Newkirk's arm drape around his shoulders and give a squeeze. "He has no right."

"Get him out of here!" Forbes ordered security with disgust both in his voice and on his face. The men watched as Kurtz was led away and everyone heaved a sigh of relief. It was finally over.

* * *

It had been forty-eight hours since the arrest of the final conspirator, and Newkirk, Carter, and LeBeau knew the time had finally come for them to bid Kinch and General Forbes goodbye, and make arrangements to return to their respective homes. Kinch hated to see his close friends leave after spending so much time together, but he knew Newkirk and Carter had families to return home to, and LeBeau had a business to run. And Forbes hated to see them leave as he had gotten to see first hand, Hogan's former team in action, and could now see what it was that made them the effective unit they were during the war. He could also now see why Rob had been so proud of them. He was too, and not only because they exposed the conspiracy that took Hogan's life, but with their professionalism, their ingenuity, their camaraderie, and their caring for and of each other. But he had another reason for not wanting the others to leave, and he disclosed that reason to Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk the day the trio came to the Pentagon to personally say farewell to the man who reminded them so much of their Colonel. After he explained things, the trio was more than willing to stay another three days. All he asked was that the information he shared with them be kept from Kinch.

_**(Another seventy-two hours later):**_

The awards ceremony honoring several people for various things, and the presenting of medals, was held in the Pentagon's auditorium with family, friends, and other officers in attendance. Both Kinch and Forbes were in their dress uniforms and for once, the two men could enjoy themselves and relax. Kinch was seated with his three friends in the front row, who he noticed were struggling to maintain straight faces whenever they looked at him, and he suspected something was up. But he found he couldn't uncover what they were keeping from him; not even from the usually talkative Carter who couldn't keep a secret even if it meant his life.

He and the others had each received a specially designed certificate, created especially by those at the Pentagon, to thank them for exposing the conspiracy within the Pentagon that killed Hogan and the others, and for exposing and catching the guilty parties. There was no formal award, plaque or certificate, and to have one especially created for the occasion touched the men's hearts. But they each knew they would gladly return their certificates to have Hogan back alive.

Now seated beside his friends again, Kinch stared at them and still saw their mischievous expressions.

"What's with you three?" Kinch whispered. "You're all acting as if you know something I don't."

"Maybe," Carter got out before Newkirk jabbed him in the side. "Owww. What was that for?" he asked looking at the Englander.

"Did anybody ever tell you you talk too much, Andrew?" Newkirk asked.

"Could you just shut your big mouth?" whispered LeBeau.

Carter frowned as he stared forward determined not to say another word.

Kinch shook his head as he noticed his commanding officer again standing at the podium, and gave him his undivided attention as did the others. He was puzzled as to what was going on because as far as he knew, their certificates were the last of the awards to be presented. He then noticed the General staring directly at him.

"Captain Kinchloe, would you please step forward," Forbes requested.

Wondering what was going on, Kinch slowly got to his feet and approached his commanding officer. He stood facing the man, waiting and wondering.

"I saved our next award until the end for a special reason," Forbes began, a smile on his lips as he looked out at the audience before turning back to the Captain. "It's special because it was one of the last official acts submitted by my good friend General Robert Hogan six months before his death in a tragic plane crash. It was for a Bronze Star to be awarded to his then aide, and now my Senior aide, Captain James Kinchloe, for meritorious service." Forbes' eyes were moist as he again looked at Kinch who stood, slack-jawed. Kinch glanced over at the three men seated in the front row stunned, and saw them grinning like little kids.

In a daze, Kinch could only stare at Forbes. The realization that Hogan had done this caused tears to form in his eyes, and he blinked several times to keep them from falling while chewing his lower lip. He took a deep breath and then exhaled.

"Captain, if General Hogan was alive today he would be the one to do the honors. But as he isn't, I am honored to do this in his place," Forbes held the medal in his hands and proceeded to pin it on Kinch's jacket. "Captain James Kinchloe, I present you with the Bronze Star." After pinning the medal on Kinch's jacket, Forbes stepped back and Kinch smartly saluted the General who returned his salute. Forbes smiled as Kinch had his shining moment and promised himself he would never tell the man Hogan's request had been received by Desmond and purposely hidden in the Major's desk drawer.

Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau stood and applauded as did the others in the audience. They were proud of and happy for Kinch and weren't ashamed to show it by trying to applaud the loudest.

Kinch, a smile on his face, and tears in his eyes, struggled to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks. Exhaling deeply, he kept his hands clasped behind his back; his eyes glued to his three friends realizing now that they had known about this beforehand, and that this was the reason for them delaying their leaving town as originally planned.

* * *

Later that evening, the team were enjoying a steak dinner delivered by room service and glasses of champagne. There was laughter and telling of Stalag 13 stories, and recalling memories of Hogan that lasted well into the evening. Then it was Carter who brought them all back to reality.

"Y'know, it's hard to believe that we're all going our separate ways tomorrow," the young man said innocently. Kinch, Newkirk and LeBeau all looked at each other, and then at Carter. It was with those few words that the four men realized something that although they knew would eventually happen, had been pushed into the back of their minds. But now it was in the front and a realization they could no longer ignore or deny. Tomorrow, with the exception of Kinch, they would go their separate ways only to return when it was time for the trial of Decker, Schmidt and Kurtz who had pleaded not guilty.

"Andre is right," LeBeau agreed. "This is our last night together as a team. Tomorrow we will be going our separate ways. I am going to miss all of you, mes amis."

"Same here," said Newkirk. "But we'll all stay in touch."

"Of course we will," added Kinch. "We'll all keep in touch just like we have been. And we'll all see each other."

"Yeah, but it won't be quite the same," Newkirk said realistically. "For a few weeks we've been together as a team similar to how we were at Stalag 13, and it felt like old times. And with General Forbes helping it almost felt like having the Gov'nor with us again. Then again, in other ways, it wasn't the same because the General wasn't Colonel Hogan, although he was like him in so many ways. But we did a good thing we did. I think the Colonel would be proud."

"I know he would," Kinch said. He raised his champagne glass. "Here's to Colonel Hogan."

The others raised their glasses, echoed his words, and then clinked their glasses together in a farewell toast to their fallen commander.

* * *

(1) The Nuremberg Trials were a series of military tribunals held by the Allied forces for the prosecution of prominent members of the defeated Nazis in 1945-1946.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Here it is, the final chapter. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**Chapter 35**

_**Eight Months Later:**_

Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk stood in a semi-circle at the grave of General Robert Hogan, their hands clasped in front of them with heads bowed and eyes closed. Having placed bouquets in front of the marker, they were each now saying a silent prayer. Once finished, they each crossed themselves and just continued to stare at the white marble headstone. Oblivious to other people who were there to pay respects to loved ones, they first visited the grave of General Alvin Butler in order to pay their respects to the man, and to let him know the successful outcome of their investigation before placing four separate bouquets in front of his headstone. Then, they quietly made their way to Hogan's grave. They wanted to visit his grave last for several reasons; one being it was his death that led to their investigation to start with. Two, it was their love, loyalty still, and devotion to the man who, with the exception of Kinch, would forever be known as 'the Colonel.' And three, it would be the last time they would all be together, and gather at Hogan's grave until the following March 13. But each man had promised he would keep in touch with the others.

Following the arrest of Daerik Kurtz, the men stayed around to watch Desmond and Darwin both plead guilty and be sentenced. After the sentencing, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk then reluctantly bid both Kinch and General Forbes fond goodbyes before returning to their individual homes with the promise that they would return for the trials of Decker, Schmidt and Kurtz as all three pleaded not guilty. A month later, they all returned as the first of the three trials began, and would for each of the remaining two trials with trips back home in-between. But as the sentence was passed on the last of the three trials, Hogan's former unit decided to go out for dinner, spend the night in town, and then visit Arlington cemetery the following day before going their separate ways again.

After dinner, they returned back to their hotel to not only share more fond memories of Hogan and Stalag 13, but to update each other on the latest happenings in each of their lives since the last time they were together. Carter proudly showed recent photos of the new baby, marveling as to how much Robbie had grown while he'd been gone and the latest on Arlene and the other children. Newkirk also proudly had photos of Clarissa and his children as well, recounting the antics of the youngsters, especially his oldest, Peter Jr.. Kinch explained that Captain Winger, though released from the hospital a week ago, was still a long way off from being able to return to her duties. But that her doctors now believed she would fully recover physically in time; However, it was still unclear exactly what the after-effects would be from her head injury. But he also sadly pointed out that there was very little chance of anything romantic happening between them despite their mutual attraction, and until things changed, there never would be. His friends felt badly and again cursed the thinking of the times. LeBeau had a photo of a young lady whom he had been introduced to by a friend. He said her name was Josette, and things had become quite serious. He also informed them that Dubois and Tiger were expecting their first child in a few months, and to honor Hogan, if it was a boy, he would be named Robert; and if a girl, Sophia, after Dubois' late mother. The men asked LeBeau to pass on their regards to the happy couple.

The following morning, the men all awoke early and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast from room service. Then, Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau all had plane reservations to make for later today before leaving for the cemetery together. But for two of the men, they each needed some time alone first, and both Kinch and Carter understood.

LeBeau, alone in the bedroom he had shared with Kinch, chewed his lower lip. He had spoken to his family to check on them and the restaurant, and learned everything was fine. He informed them he would be returning to Paris later today. It was then he learned Josette was there helping out, and spoke with her briefly telling her how much he loved and missed her, and that he had an important question to ask her when he got back. Later when he was alone, LeBeau reached into his jacket pocket and removed a small black box. Opening it, he gazed at the diamond ring inside with a smile. It was while staring at the ring, the little Frenchman's lower lip quivered, and his eyes became bright with unshed tears. He then wiped at something in his eye. "You told me once in a letter not to forget to have a happy life, mon Colonel," he said to the open air. "Well, I have met someone. Her name is Josette, and you would love her as do I. And I want you to be the first to know, Colonel. I am going to ask her to marry me when I return home. My only regret is that you will not be there to celebrate with us at the wedding."

Sitting alone on the bed in the bedroom he had shared with Carter, Newkirk sighed as he swallowed the building lump in his throat. Knowing what he and the others had to do and where they had to be before going their separate ways was more than he could handle, and he needed time to reign in his emotions. Like Hogan, Newkirk was a very private man, and had never been one to show his emotions in public. So, after confirming his flight to London, he had purposely avoided the others by staying in his bedroom until the time had come for them to leave the hotel. The Englander needed that time alone knowing his emotions were about to bubble over. Once he was certain he had a grip on things, he walked into the living room and announced with as cheery a smile as he could to LeBeau, Kinch, and Carter that he was ready. The four men then left the hotel solemnly for their journey as a team.

And now, as they stood staring at the white marble headstone, each man was lost in his own thoughts.

Newkirk, despite his best efforts, felt his lower lip quiver and kept blinking to keep his tears at bay. He refused to cry in public. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, and then swallowed the growing lump in his throat. _You and the others can rest in peace now, Gov'nor, _he thought to himself._ We got every single one of them bleedin' bastards who done you and the others harm._

LeBeau had hoped that once the conspiracy had been exposed, and all the guilty members caught and punished, or killed, that he could rejoice; but found he couldn't. The one thing that _would_ bring him joy was not to be had no matter what. _I will forever miss you, mon Colonel, _he thought to himself as his eyes fell on the lettering on the marker. _You_ _made me believe in myself during our days in Stalag 13, and that I could make a difference. For that I will always be grateful. When I return to Paris, the first thing I will do to honor you is to have your photo hung on the wall in my restaurant with a bougie commemorative beneath it which will be kept lit. This way, when those who dine there ask, I will proudly tell them who you are, and that you are the man who made such a difference to me and my country. Rest in peace, Colonel. (1)_

Carter didn't care if anybody saw him crying. Though delighted that all those responsible had been found, that fact brought him little joy. Bowing his head, Carter looked down at the ground. During his conversation with Arlene, he told her he'd be home in a few hours, and how much he loved and missed her and their children; he then added once he returned home, he wanted to sit her and the kids down, and tell them all about Colonel Hogan. Lifting his head again, Carter gazed at the marker. "_I know you didn't get a chance to meet Robbie, Colonel," _Carter told himself. "_And when he's older, I'm gonna make sure he learns all about his Uncle Robert and the type of man he was. I know he'll be just as proud of you as I was serving under you. I'm sure gonna miss you, sir." _Suddenly Carter suddenly had an inspiration. Digging into his inside jacket pocket, he removed his wallet and removed one of the new photos of the baby. With the others looking on, Carter stuck the photo behind the flowers and against the headstone. "He never got a chance to see the new baby I named after him," he said softly. "At least now he'll have a photo of him."

"That's a lovely gesture, Andrew," Newkirk told him softly with a smile; Kinch and LeBeau agreed.

Smiling in return, Carter returned to his spot beside Kinch and with hands clasped in front of him again, resumed staring at the headstone.

Kinch inhaled and exhaled deeply as his eyes momentarily looked skyward before returning to the headstone of the grave of the man he considered his best friend and confidant. A man to whom his skin color meant nothing.

Looking down, Kinch let his fingers then caress the Bronze Star medal pinned to his uniform jacket, and recalled General Forbes' words that one of Hogan's last acts before his death was to recommend Kinch for the medal. Kinch swore that he would never forget those words as long as he lived. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped at the tears rolling down his cheeks unashamedly, and wiped them away with the palm of his hand. _"I thank you for the medal, General,"_ he said to himself. _"And while I appreciate it, I'd give it back in a heartbeat just to have you alive and back with us again. But I promise you I will continue to do the best job I can for General Forbes and make you proud. I won't let you down, sir." _Swallowing hard again, Kinch exhaled deeply as he felt his emotions getting away from him.

"You'll be glad to know, sir," began Kinch in a shaky voice, "That we got them, all of them. And they will pay for what they did. Major Desmond got life in prison in Leavenworth; Decker's younger brother got life in prison at a Federal Penitentiary. We also had everybody in the Air Force checked out thoroughly again, and fortunately, we found nothing so there shouldn't be a repeat of what happened. Hopefully that will make you rest easier on that account."(2)

"Decker, Schmidt and Kurtz all pleaded not guilty, Colonel," LeBeau continued, "But with all the evidence we had of the conspiracy and the previous attempts made on you, the trials did not last very long. They were all found guilty in separate civilian trials, and have been sentenced to death. Couldn't happen to three nicer filthy Bosche, Colonel."

"And ole Jack Williams is dead, Colonel," added Newkirk, his voice trembling. "Fortunately, he won't be up there with you. Then again, hell's even too bloody good for 'im."

"But it won't bring you back, Colonel," said a sad-faced Carter. "Nothing will in fact. Sir, there's just one thing. Could you say hi to General Butler and Morrison for us? They were swell guys just like you." He didn't see Newkirk roll his eyes and shake his head.

"Ten Hut!" Kinch announced sharply. He, LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk all came to attention and gave Hogan their smartest salute, completely unaware of three men standing close by and off to the side watching them.

Only a few yards away, standing unobserved by others looking in their direction while visiting the cemetery, and despite being in full view of those paying respects to others interred there, were General Robert Hogan and General Alvin Butler, both in their dress uniforms, smiling as they glanced at Robert Morrison who returned their smiles. Both Butler and Morrison could see Hogan was bursting with pride at his former team, and they both knew he would give anything at this moment to be able to personally thank each of them for exposing the conspiracy that claimed him and the others as a result of the plane crash, as well as those who became casualties simply because they got in the way.

"I always knew your men were good, Hogan," Morrison said looking at the General. "They proved that when you and your men helped me in Berlin with Robin Hood. But doing what they did by finding those responsible for all our deaths, they've all outdone themselves. You should be proud."

Butler put a hand on Hogan's shoulder and the two Generals looked at each other; Hogan's arms were wrapped around himself as had been his custom.

"You have a good team, Rob," he said. "A good team and even better friends."

Hogan smiled affectionately at Butler before turning to look at the four men still standing in front of the headstone marking his grave. He had never been as proud of them as he was at this moment.

"I still do, General," he said, voice swelling with emotion. "I still do."

**THE END**

* * *

(1) A bougie commemorative is a memorial candle.

(2) Leavenworth is one of two major prisons built on the grounds of Fort Leavenworth in Kansas.


End file.
